


Aluneth's Unfortunate Future

by TheaTerathiel



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Anal Sex, But expect a variety of stuff, Comedy, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Girl Penis, Humor, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Ironically gets more vanilla as it goes on, Lesbian Sex, Masturbation, Memes, Multi, Oral Sex, Other, Porn With Plot, Slow Burn, Tags Vary By Chapter, Tentacles, The Author Regrets Everything
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-01-27 18:24:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21396652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheaTerathiel/pseuds/TheaTerathiel
Summary: Malyssa is a shitty wizard who accidentally stumbles into possessing the artefact staff, Aluneth. Join her as she tries to avoid all responsibility and make a decent plot out of the dumpster-fire that is BfA's story, all the while trying to keep track of what really matters in life.If it wasn't already obvious, this is extremely low-brow.
Relationships: Original Characters/Original Characters
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	1. Out of the Closet

The vaults of the Kirin Tor were famed for their impregnable nature. Layer after layer of magical defences stood guard against any that would seek to steal the artefacts contained therein. Were one to get past the elementium-reinforced door protected by three dozen locking enchantments, they would find a pocket dimension of warped geometry as their next trial. Should they pass through that, a vast river of lava awaited them. Within this river of lava dwelt four hundred and fifty seven (any more would be excessive, of course) fire elementals, kept in a perpetual state of seething rage by a copy of _Battletoads_ and a faulty SNES controller. This narrator could not possible forget to mention what came afterwards, either - a small room haunted by a spirit that took the form of whatever the intruder most desired, a trap that could tempt even a pit lord to spend an eternity with what he thought was his own big tiddy void elf gf. For those precious few that passed this obstacle, the final door to the vaults was unlocked. Opening it, of course, would proceed to teleport the intruder deep into the cold voice of space where they would surely get the message that they weren't wanted in the vaults. Impregnable.

Fortunately, what Malyssa, sin'dorei and arcane mage extraordinaire, was searching for did not lay secure within the vaults. Instead, she hung upside-down by her left boot from one of Dalaran's higher parapets, eternally grateful she'd decided to wear pants today.

The peacekeepers on flight discs had an impressive number of spells trained on her. Their leader cleared his throat. "Surrender, thief. You are outnumbered and in a disadvantageous position. Submit, and the court's judgement may be lenient."

_Yeah, right,_ she thought. _I nearly gave Kalecgos a heart attack when I fell out of his wardrobe._

Pointing up at her snagged boot, she send out a small blast of arcane energy that dislodged her. Malyssa fell towards the ground far, far below, preparing her timing.

An instant before collision, she blinked, and arrested her fall with a short teleport that saw her safely on the ground, her cloak billowing about her. Startled citizens stared in her direction. Mal flicked a strand of hair over her shoulder, adjusting her cloak before walking off briskly.

She only had a short time before the peacekeepers caught up with her. There was no time to get to the sewers, but there was a storage room that she knew of nearby. Mal cast an invisibility charm around herself before ducking into a side alley. It wouldn't throw her pursuers off, but it might buy her some time.

With a sweep of her cloak (for dramatic effect, despite nobody being able to see it), the mage hurried off, weaving her way through the light crowds. She headed quickly to the storage room, hearing the shouts of the peacekeepers catching up to her.

Smoothly, she opened the door to the storage room and crept inside. She blinked forward, down into a corridor of empty shipping crates. Mal ducked inside an empty one - not a moment too soon, as the peacekeepers barged in just as she shut the crate.

The inside of the crate smelt like moths, if she was brutally honest. It wasn’t something her elven senses found particularly appealing. From outside her hiding spot, she heard the peacekeepers talk.

"Search the crates," the commander ordered.

_Fuck. _

As the peacekeepers began hunting through crate after crate, Mal looked desperately around for anything inside that could help her. She quickly realised she'd been mistaken in her initial assessment - her hiding spot wasn't empty. An ornate, tri-pointed staff embedded with blue-purple crystals.

Probably worthless, but she'd take it anyway, just in case. Mal leaned forward, her hand closing around the staff. As she did, it came to life, the crystals lighting up. A voice spoke in her head.

_"Who are you that dares lay hand upon me?"_

"This thing fucking _talks?_' Mal whispered. "What the hell is this?"

_ "You are ignorant?! Do you not know you hold the great Aluneth, power incarnate?" _

The name was vaguely familiar to Mal. She wracked her brain, trying to place it. A staff named Alu-

She almost choked.

"What are you doing here?!" she demanded, as quietly as she could. Aluneth! If this truly was the legendary greatstaff of the Magus, this was her ticket out of here!

_ "They drain most of my power and throw me in the vault with the rest of their trinkets."_ She could hear a note of bitterness in the entity's voice. _"Fools! I am still a force they cannot possibly overcome." _

"Wait, vault? We're not in the vaults," she said, confused. Aluneth was silent for a moment.

_"Then where are we?" _

She giggled as she realised. Someone was getting fired for this!

"We're in a storage room. You seem to have been misplaced."

_"Those insolent, simple-minded-" _

Mal interrupted the entity's tirade as she heard the peacekeepers getting closer. "Hey, staff, can you get us out of here?"

Another moment of silence. _"I can amplify your power for a teleport." _

"Good enough for me. Let's go!"

***

When the swirling vortex of arcane energy dissipated, Malyssa and Aluneth were left on a deserted stretch of Stormheim's coast. She laughed.

"Magnificent! Oh, you and me are going to have some _fun!_"

Aluneth buzzed with irritation. _"You presume I will help you? What makes you think you are worthy?" _

She shrugged. "I mean, I can put you back in the box if you want. I'm sure the archmagi would prefer you under their watchful supervision."

_"I suppose we can come to an arrangement, then. Even drained, my power is considerable. You could be an empress if you so desired." _

Mal pursed her lips before discarding the suggestion. "No thanks. That sounds like way too much work."

She opened her dimensional backpack, pulling out a fold-up tent. With a hand gesture, it expanded into spacious accommodation branded with a logo featuring Gallywix's smug face.

_"Short-term work for long-term reward. Think of all that you could do with the authority of an empress…"_

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to corrupt me," she mused.

_"Corrupt? No. Merely… enlighten. The powers at your command could remake the world, child. Show me. Show me your grand power!" _

Mal only paid a sliver of attention to the insidious entity, yet her lips curved up in a smile. "Well… two birds, one stone, I guess. Now that I'm alone, I was going to do this anyway." She entered the tent and set Aluneth down on one side. A locking charm sealed them away safely as Mal prepared to bunk down for the night. The blood elf took off her shirt and bra, letting the handfuls of her breasts free. She sighed in relief and lay back. Her state of undress was soon completed as she rolled down her trousers and panties in one motion, kicking them off her feet along with her shoes. If Aluneth was surprised at the presence of a small, flaccid package nestled between her thighs, the entity didn't show it. Most likely, it didn't care.

Mal stretched for a moment before rolling onto her side. She flexed her hand, focusing the arcane power Aluneth wanted her to display. Moments later, a five-inch glass phallus materialised in her hand. She inspected it, raising it to her lips and giving it an experimental lick. It was thin, but that perfectly suited her desires at the moment.

_"The powers of spacetime at your command, and you use it to summon sex toys."_ The staff's voice sounded almost as disappointed as her father's.

"Mmm. Fuck yeah I do." Mal took the entirety of the conjured dildo in her mouth now, using her saliva to lubricate it. Her free hand worked around under her, applying some further lubrication to the puckered hole of her ass. Sufficiently prepared, she sat up and moved the dildo down. She rubbed it against her own (much smaller) penis, which perked up a little in excitement but didn't stiffen.

Again she moved the dildo down, past the small swell of her testes and pressing it against her hole. She applied a gentle pressure, easing just the tip inside. Mal closed her eyes as a smile crept across her face from the sensation. She eased it further into her tight, clinging anus, letting out a soft moan as it rubbed against all the sensitive spots inside her.

Aluneth let out a noise of disgust which she ignored. Slowly, she slid the conjured toy deeper until it was all the way inside. Mal let it rest there for a moment, allowing her backside to adjust to the feeling of the stretching, before pulling it out until just the tip remained nestled inside her snug hole.

Sunwell, she'd not had a chance to do this for a while. Work had taken up far too much time, and she'd longed for the opportunity to be filled, even if it was by something as modest in size as her conjuration. She began fucking herself with it now, sliding it in and out with increasing speed as the muscles of her backside loosened up to allow the intruder. Her little penis bobbed up and down with the motions, for the moment remaining ignored in favour of her anal pleasure. Precum began beading at the tip, absolute proof of her enjoyment.

Mal rolled over onto her back, lifting her legs up to allow herself the best angle with which to push the toy into her backside. Her breathing hitched every time it slid over the bump of her g-spot, causing her penis to shiver in excitement. Her free hand moved down to catch it in between the 'v' of her index and middle fingers. Mal moved that hand up and down, providing the final bit of stimulation she needed to cum.

Thin, watery spurts of elven cum sprayed out from her still-flaccid penis, dripping onto her thighs and lower body. She angled the dildo, pressing it against her g-spot and thrusting it in place. She gasped and writhed in ecstasy for almost a minute before the pleasure slowly faded and she fell limp.

"How's that for a demonstration of power?" she asked the sullenly silent staff. Aluneth didn't deign to respond.


	2. A Slow Corruption

Silvermoon! It was good to be home, Malyssa thought, even if the building roofs still looked extremely strange from certain angles. Aluneth was strapped to her back, occasionally making a smug comment about how superior he was. Mal opted not to respond by pointing out that _they_ had a functional city, and _it_ was a talking staff.

It was a pleasantly warm evening, and the city was more excited than usual. Another gala, Tanika had told her. The Court of the Sun was positively vibrant with activity.

Tanika herself was waiting underneath a tree opposite the building the gala was scheduled in. Mal waved to attract her attention.

"Welcome back, dear friend," Tanika smiled at her as they embraced in greeting. "How were the Broken Isles?"

"A lot better once the demons left."

"I see you got a new staff."

Mal chuckled. "In a roundabout way, yeah. Tanika, this is Aluneth. I, uh, rescued him from a Dalaran storage room."

Tanika's mouth dropped. "You stole an artefact?!"

_"I let her free me from the clutches of the wizards,"_ Aluneth defended._ "She exhibits some aptitude for the arcane arts, enough that I deign to allow her to borrow my power." _

"It… talks?!"

"Some say too much," Mal mused. She looked on at the crowd of nobles in awe. "That must be every noble-elf in the city. Lor'themar's there, and Liadrin… who's that?"

Tanika peered at where her friend's finger was pointing. "Ah, that's Halduron Brightwing. Surprised you didn't recognise him."

"And that one?"

"No idea, but I can hear the hyphenated last name from here."

"Come to think of it, shouldn't you be with all of them, Tanika? What with your family, and all."

She laughed nervously. "Ah, yeah, about that. My family wealth is kinda gone."

"That's terrible! What happened?"

"Well, my mother was approached by a goblin named Zuckerwix who offered her a business opportunity about some kind of collective social network thing. Turns out it was all an elaborate pyramid scheme, and now he has all her personal information so now she's a few million gold in debt and working at a Bilgewater casino as a dancer. It sucks."

_"Wow, she's dumber than a vaporwave producer,"_ the voice of Aluneth deadpanned from over Mal's back.

"So what will you do now?" Mal asked, concerned.

"Oh, you don't have to worry about me. I emancipated myself as soon as I guessed what was happening. My finances are secure, but…" Tanika shrugged. "Galas are a little out of my means, for now. I have better ways to have fun."

Mal made a face. "You've been playing strip Hearthstone with strange men again, haven't you?"

"Maaaaaybe."

"Tanika, you're _terrible_ at Hearthstone."

"Um, yeah? That's kind of the point."

"Harlot," Mal said with a roll of her eyes.

_ "You have absolutely no right to talk,"_ Aluneth interjected.

"I suppose this is where you invite me for a hand?" the mage continued, the corner of her lip starting to curve upwards in a smile.

"What? No!" Tanika looked horrified at the prospect. "That'd be a complete waste of time. You know what I want anyway."

The 'voice' of Aluneth resounded with fury in their heads. _"I will not stand for this!" _

The two elves looked at each other in surprise, before glancing at the staff over Mal's back.

"I'm sorry?" Tanika asked.

_ "The bearer of Aluneth gains a mastery of the arcane sufficient to topple empires! To raise a magocracy in their own image! This… this child who wields me now squanders the gift she has been given, and I will not take this insult! She should be an object of fear, not of desire!" _

"Here we go again," Mal muttered.

_"I attempt to guide her, but my attempts are wasted. All she seems to want to do is engage in carnal pursuits, and I am dragged along with her! She is disappointing!" _

"Is it my boobs?" the mage asked. "Because, like, I can probably make them bigger if you're into that."

"I think your boobs are lovely."

"Aw, thanks, Tanika."

_ "Your breasts are not the issue of contention, it is your motivation!" _

Mal's eyes met Tanika's, and she sighed. The mage braced herself for an unpleasant conversation.

"Aluneth. Sweetie. _I don't want to rule the world._ I'm quite happy just travelling around, helping out local towns with their problems, and dancing on mailboxes whenever I need more gold. If I was the ruler of the world… well… I'd be expected to help out when world-ending threats occur, and that's scary!"

_ "And how often does that happen, hmm?" _

"There's like, one a year. It's like the universe's shittiest schedule. Look, if you want power, we can arrange that. Just on a slightly smaller scale, okay?"

Aluneth entered a sullen silence, which Mal took to mean that the staff reluctantly agreed to her proposal. She returned her attention to a bemused Tanika, and smirked.

Seventeen minutes later, the two of them were sprawled on Tanika's bed, entwined in a rough embrace as their lips vigorously locked together. Laid up against the wall, Aluneth could only huff angrily and think of Kalimdor.

Mal roughly pulled down Tanika's dress, pausing to kiss at her breasts. She continued to strip her, until Tanika kicked off the dress and responded in turn with Mal's own outfit.

The mage pulled her friend's legs apart, kissing the inside of her thighs. She attacked, tongue flicking out to run up the length of the slit between Tanika's thighs. Mal could taste the wetness on her tongue. She locked eyes with her friend, and moved in. Her lips sealed around the small nub of Tanika's clit, and she lightly rolled it between her teeth. Using the flat of her tongue, she ran it up and down, irrhythmically stopping to lightly suck on the little nub. Tanika's gasps and soft moans urged her on, and Mal focused intently on finding exactly what little things made her friend tick. The other elf's thighs began to clench down more firmly, and the mage moved down further. Her mouth left Tanika's clit, to softly lick and kiss at the edges of her labia.

"Oh, you utter bitch," Tanika groaned. "I was _so close…_"

Mal would have smiled if her tongue was not busy exploring the inner lips of her friend. She stiffened the slick organ before thrusting forward, slightly penetrating Tanika with it. The other elf's arousal was sweet upon her taste buds, and she eagerly began to tongue-fuck her friend. Her hand rested on Tanika's pelvis, the thumb moving in slow circles around the sensitive little nub placed just under it. Tanika's shallow, excited breaths sang sweetly in the air.

The mage receded, moving up once again to nurse at Tanika's clit. Her other hand extended one long finger, slipping it inside the other elf and caressing the utterly drenched tunnel within. As her friend's gasps intensified, Mal pushed another finger inside and redoubled her oral ministrations.

Tanika writhed in pleasure, her legs locking around Mal's neck and keeping the mage in place. Mal felt her inner walls clench down and spasm around her fingers, and found herself pushed further into Tanika as the other elf's thighs almost choked her. She kept up her attack on Tanika's clit as her friend's hands grabbed the back of her head and pushed her down. Mal realised with a shock that she couldn't breathe, and her struggles only inflamed her friend's climax. Her tongue desperately lashed out at Tanika's most sensitive spot, and gushes of wetness dripped down her hand and over her chin. Her heart pounded as oxygen left her lungs, and her girldick twitched and stiffened slightly from - oh, Sunwell - the danger, the deep erotic thrill that raced through her core.

As Tanika's death-grip on her head relaxed, Mal reared back, gasping for air. The other elf lay on the bed, breasts heaving, and hips twitching. The mage collapsed at the foot of the bed, reaching down almost unconsciously to take her girldick between thumb and index finger and pull at the tiny length. The thrill of breathlessness inflamed her desire, blood rushing to all her extremities and stiffening her to her full three and a half inches. Her nipples felt like they could have cut glass. Her arousal was a living, breathing thing, settling over the veil of her consciousness and reducing her to a panting mess.

I've discovered something about myself, she realised as her other hand furiously fingered her asshole, the long, manicured digits thrusting in and out.

"Get… up here," Tanika's breathless voice ordered. Mal stopped her feverish motions, the words cutting through the haze of lust like a knife. Utterly submissive, she obeyed on instinct.

"I don't know if I love you or hate you right now," Tanika continued, her eyes level with Mal's own. "But I know damn well that whatever you just did to me, I'm going to do right back to you."

She pushed Mal onto her back and perched over her on hands and knees. Tanika poked at the throbbing erection before her, giggling.

"You still have this little thing?" she teased.

"It's… convenient," the mage managed, her lust physically hurting now.

"I think it's cute," Tanika responded with a smirk, teasing it with her index finger.

Mal moaned in ecstasy. "You're lucky I'm not a guy, or I'd probably be offended by that."

"That's why I said it."

With that, Tanika went down, taking Mal to the root in one deft motion. The mage groaned as she felt her friend's throat clench down around the tip of her girldick. She tried to buck her hips, but Tanika held her down as she fellated her, running her tongue around the underside of the head and slowly dragging her lips up the shaft until only the tip remained in her mouth.

The elf's tongue flicked in and out, teasing the underside of the head sitting just between her lips. Still lying submissive, Mal's hand reached up to grasp and fondle her left breast as Tanika's head bobbed up and down on her girldick. Her eyes rolled back into her head as pleasure raced through her, leaving the mage a writhing, panting mess. Heat and sweat rolled off of her hypersensitive skin, each slight movement sending shivers of ecstasy through her nerves. The mage's strangled gasps and the spasms in her legs only urged Tanika on, and Mal felt as if her soul were being sucked out through her cock. Of course, that wasn't the only thing being sucked from it.

Her orgasm thundered across every cell in her body, frying her brain and causing her vision to blur red from the pounding blood in her eyes. Sheer, unbridled ecstasy raced through her veins as her girldick unloaded its pent-up load into Tanika's willing mouth. Perhaps Mal was screaming - she couldn't tell. Her fingers clutched at the bedsheets, now soaked with the combined sweat and desire of the two elves.

The mage fainted, only to be dragged back into the waking world by another surge of delight as thin rope after rope of her issue was forced out of her entrapped girldick. She raced in and out of consciousness, finally succumbing to warm darkness only as her orgasm faded.

Mal found herself brought back into the world of the living by the soft touches of Tanika's lips at her breast. She let out a shuddering breath.

"Wow."

Tanika smiled up at her, eyes glinting, and moved in for a kiss. Mal's mouth opened to reciprocate, and as their tongues touch, she felt her own thin cum drip into her mouth. Taken aback, she started to splutter, but was stopped as her friend locked lips.

Their tongues coiled over each other's, snowballing around the slightly sweet taste of Mal's issue. The mage closed her arms around Tanika's back, pulling her into a close embrace.

All too soon, the kiss ended, and Mal smiled sheepishly at her friend as she swallowed.

"That is considerably more enjoyable than conjuring toys," she said. Tanika gave her a quick peck on the lips.

"How long are you staying here for?" she asked.

"Hopefully a while. Why, what are you suggesting?"

Tanika's fingers traced a line down Mal's stomach, reaching ever lower. "Repeat performances."

"How many?" the mage asked breathlessly.

"Many."


	3. There's no way to make this major plot event look good

The green and purple hues of Ashenvale's canopy stretched along for kilometres in all directions. Malyssa stayed towards the centre of the Horde patrol, not wanting to be the first target in the extremely likely event that the night elves attacked the small force.

The 'War of the Thorns', they were calling it. Saurfang's great offensive to seize Teldrassil for the Horde. She wondered if orcs could ever get tired of endless warfare - or maybe this was at the behest of the Warchief. It seemed so... unnecessary. Mal's conscription notification had come not even a few months after the defeat of the Legion. And now she was to go into war again.

Across her back, Aluneth seemed content with the turn of events. War seemed to suit the entity bound within the staff, regardless of what its owner thought. The whispers of the staff continually urged her onto greater acts of violence - no, not of violence. Acts of _domination_. To prove her power and superiority.

She shook her head. "Yikes," she muttered to herself. She wasn't that kind of girl anyway.

Scouts were sent out, and Malyssa found herself dispatched on her own. Shrouded by an invisibility cantrip, she crept through the night with Aluneth in her hands. Staff and owner were of one mind, the ebb and throb of arcane power coursing through them.

Her caution was warranted. Though she couldn't see them, she felt the watchful eyes of the kaldorei upon her. Mal held no real personal motivation for this war - but she was an invader nonetheless.

The mass of fur and plate armour that leapt out at her from the bushes was millimetres away from taking out her throat. A gigantic twin-edged axe glittered in the twilight, and Mal blinked forward, pirouetting on her heels to level Aluneth at her assailant. A retaliatory beam of arcane energy surged forth and knocked the worgen back, slamming him into a tree with enough force to topple it.

"Stay down, Alliance scum- oh, fuck it. My heart isn't in it."

She sighed and put Aluneth over her back. "You were alone, weren't you?"

Eyeing her suspiciously, the worgen's response was slow, the words drawn out. "Ye-es."

"Sorry about the hit. You're not too badly hurt, right?"

He shifted. "No. What are you playing at, elf?"

"I don't really want to be here," she shrugged. "To be perfectly honest, it seems a little stupid that we as a collective have seen the utter horrors of the universe that await us, and we're still at each other's throats over dumb shit. I mean, we haven't even really been told _why_ we're attacking Darnassus, just that it's a pre-emptive strike. Like Anduin's going to start shit, right? Kid would try diplomacy with an Old God."

"This has to be a trick." The worgen's voice was utterly deadpan.

Mal shook her head. "I can't really let you go, but at the same time I don't want to kill you. So what say we just sit this one out for a bit?"

A snarl. "And let your allies slaughter the night elves? I and my people owe them everything. I won't let the Horde ravage their lands!"

"Believe me, I empathise. I've nothing against night elves. They're kinda weird, sure, but they're cool anyway."

"Sylvanas..."

"If you go after her, _you die_. I'm sorry, but... that's just how it is."

The worgen howled, a primal cry of rage and helplessness. Mal's heart sank. She felt terrible about this. Not just having to restrain the worgen, but about the whole invasion. How many people were going to die? How much of it... would be her fault?

The howl tapered off. Mal prepped some safeguards, and sat down beside him, awkwardly patting the massive soldier's shoulder.

"I'm sorry about this," she said. The worgen's ears pricked up, and his head swivelled to look at her.

"You're telling the truth," he said, surprise evident in his tone. "I didn't... expect that from a blood elf."

She pouted. "We're not all like Sylvanas. I'm definitely not."

"You'll have to do more to convince me of that, I'm afraid."

Her eyes flicked up and down the worgen's body. Perhaps it was the adrenaline rush, or maybe there really was something wrong with her... but fuck it, she'd already committed what essentially amounted to treason. She ran her fingers down the worgen's arm, grasping loosely at a paw. Surprised, he jerked away, looking at her with a confused expression.

"A gesture of goodwill," she explained. It took him a while to get the implication, but his jaw dropped when it did.

"You... what? Why?"

_"You have got to be joking,"_ Aluneth uttered in her head, disbelief unmistakeable._ "With a worgen, too?" _

She raised an eyebrow, smirking as seductively as she could. "Do I need a reason? As long as you're interested, of course."

The worgen's face screwed up as he struggled with the decision. Mal prepared herself to back away if it turned out he _wasn't_ interested, though she was pretty sure she'd gotten a good read. Men were especially easy to seduce. She arched her back, pushing out her chest. Uh, what there was of her chest, she corrected herself.

"I'll do it," the worgen said, pinching the bridge of his snout with two fingers.

She clapped. "Excellent! Who's a good boy?"

"That's... that's just wrong."

_"I'm going away, now. Pick me up when you're done."_ With that, Aluneth's presence withdrew, further into the staff that imprisoned it.

She shrugged, and quickly pulled her top off. Mal reached back to unclasp her bra, and slipped it off. She left one arm covering her breasts, and reached down with the other to take off her leggings - only to find herself beaten to the punch. Having shed himself of his armour in an impressively plot-convenient amount of time, the worgen pounced on her, nuzzling her neck. It was a strange feeling, such a bestial form being controlled by an obviously higher intelligence.

Perhaps, later, she'd debate whether this made her a furry. For now, she was fully occupied by amorous intent.

He pulled her pants down her legs, revealing her panties. He shifted her legs slightly, noticing her bulge.

"Owo, what's this?" the worgen said with a smirk. He reached down to prod at it with a paw.

"So squishy..." he chuckled. Mal shifted a little bit, giving him better access.

"Come on, big boy," she teased. "I want to be fucked harder than Sylvanas' character integrity."

"I'll gladly oblige."

She winced a bit as he ripped her panties off, but nevertheless complied when he flipped her over. Mal wiggled her backside at him.

"I've got a bit of an itch," she said, in the most innocent of tones she could manage. Nevermind the fact that there was an Alliance having a staring contest with her asshole, she could play coy. "It's a _seven inch itch_. Can you help me?"

He slapped her ass, and she responded with a jolt and a gasp. "Say please," he commanded.

"Please!"

_Slap._ Another one, even harder than the first. Arousal simmered within her core.

"Pretty please~~!"

_Slap. Slap. _

_"I need to be punished!" _

He turned her around, and Mal suddenly found her face buried in his crotch. Her tongue reached out and licked his throbbing length as an innate reflex, and the mage almost found herself questioning her life choices that gave her that reflex. Her hands reached up to grasp at the turgid shaft as her eyes glowed. Slowly, sensually, with eye contact, she gave another lick all the way up the length. She began suckling the tip, drooling slightly over the unfamiliar, almost canine cock.

"I rather like it, Mr Fuzzy Balls," she said, before going further down and letting it fill her mouth. The definitely-familiar taste of precum filled her mouth, and with her free hand she reached down to fondle said testicles.

Sufficiently prepared, she slipped back, her lips letting go with a sharp _pop_. Mal stood up and turned around, bracing herself against a tree.

"Time to take it in my little tail hole," she giggled, with a flutter of her eyelashes.

He growled and seized her, kicking one of her legs up and taking it by the ankle. His throbbing hardness pressed up against her butt, pushing between the cheeks. Mal gulped a bit as she realised the size she'd signed up for, and with a hand gesture conjured a considerable amount more lubricant.

The worgen continued to push like that for a bit, covering both him and her with the conjured lube, and then with a snarl reared back and aligned his tip with her entrance. Mal had just enough time to think oh, shit before he pushed in, the sheer strength of the Alliance soldier forcing himself inside in one savage motion.

She gripped tighter onto the tree, feeling as if the wind had been knocked out of her lungs. Further in he pushed, until the bulge of his knot stopped any more entry. She groaned at the feeling of fullness, stretched out around his length as she was. In her core, the pleasant warmth of desire simmered unchecked, easing any pain of penetration and replacing it with pure pleasure.

Mal let herself adjust to the size, relishing the feeling of her inner walls stretching around the worgen's length. Each slight twitch, the smallest shifts in position, sent it rubbing up against sensitive places inside her, like a lewd itch being scratched. Her own little bulge twitched, a tiny bead of wetness appearing at the tip.

"I can feel a bulgy-wulgy in my belly," she said, high-pitched. "Do you want to fill my belly, uwu?"

His hips pulled back, and she groaned at the sudden emptiness deep inside her. The worgen withdrew, and then pushed himself forward again - insistent and forceful, yet not fast. Each massive inch stretched her open, rubbed against her sweet spot in just the perfect way. As he settled into a rut, her eyes rolled back and her breaths came in short gasps. She felt it grow inside, a building pressure that rose and rose with each core-shaking thrust inside her. And then… it broke. Mal's fingers scratched at the bark of the tree, and she clenched down hard around the worgen inside her as her orgasm flooded out. Thin girlcum seeped from her cock to drip down and pool in a brackish puddle on the ground.

He leaned forward, teeth lightly scraping the side of her neck, and she shivered. "Already?" he asked, voice a deep growl. The spasms of her orgasm slowly faded, allowing him to move again.

All she could do in response to his comment was whimper. Almost tenderly, he moved her shaking arms off of the tree and shifted her position so she was on all fours on the ground, allowing him to stand over her and pummel her with ever more forceful thrusts. Each plundering motion sent his hips smacking firmly against her ass, and his cock spreading open her insides.

She came again, another flood of girlcum dripping onto the ground as her cocklette flopped around from the force of the worgen's thrusts. He continued pounding her through her orgasm, the pressure on her abused g-spot starting to ache slightly… but not enough to stop.

Her partner's climax was not far behind, and with a feral snarl he gave one final, brutal thrust, his bulbous knot wrenching open her ring and embedding itself inside her. Mal shrieked at the sudden stretching, a final spurt of her issue squirting out under the pressure to splash audibly on the forest floor as her legs tried to kick up, still pinned under the weight of the worgen. Her hands gripped into the grass, and she flung her head back as spikes of pain radiated from her utterly bred hole. She felt the hot warmth fill her insides, trapped in there by the knot of her partner. It went on and on, feral snarls beside her ear reminding her that she'd just been _mated_. She was surely pregnant - wait, no. A small bit of relief, that quickly faded as Mal turned and began an outraged tirade.

"What the fuck was that?!"

"Ah shit, I knotted your asshole..."

"Why the fuck did you go and do that?!"

"I didn't mean to, it was accidental!"

"How the fuck couldn't you mean to, you're balls-fucking-deep inside me?!"

"I got carried away!"

"That fucking _hurt!_ Get the fuck out of there!"

She felt the worgen pull back, only to be halted suddenly and lose his balance. There was a moment of sheepish silence.

"I… I'm stuck."

"You have got to be fucking with me."

"No, that was three minutes ago. I can't get out now."

Mal felt, rather than heard, Aluneth's snickering amusement. Fucking staff was probably further up its own ass than the worgen was up hers.

"Do you have a spell that could help?" the worgen asked.

"Shockingly, I don't know any designed to extricate an overly zealous dick from its sheath."

"Are.…are you talking about me, or my, uh…"

She sighed deeply. "I suppose we just have to wait until it softens up and you pop back out."

Some twenty minutes passed. They passed the time playing an awkward and uncomfortable game of Hearthstone, pausing between rounds to see if the two could be separated - to no avail, of course.

His nose sniffed at the air. Mal cast an irritated glance up at him.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Can you smell… smoke?"

Now that he mentioned it, yes, she could smell smoke. Her glare turned into a frown.

"Let's see where the fire is, so we can, you know, not get caught by it in a compromising position. Can you pull out?"

He tried again, and was once more met with failure.

"Damn," she sighed. "Ok, here's how we're going to do this…"

They shuffled around to a clearer area, a mismatched collection of limbs and embarrassment. Mal peered through the night, towards the horizon.

_No. No fucking way. _

The worgen saw it too. She'd never felt someone go so soft, so quickly, and his third leg practically slithered out of her. Teldrassil was burning. Flames licked up the titanic trunk of the World Tree, acrid smoke pouring off like water on the falls. As they watched, a great sheet of wood cracked and fell into the sea with a massive splash.

_It can't be - Sylvanas. _

She stood up with the little dignity she had remaining, fists clenched with rage. She turned to the worgen, who was staring agape at the spectacle. A thousand plans, most half-baked, ran through her head. The arcane beginnings of a teleport spell crackled in her hands.

"This war isn't over," she told the worgen. "This… this wasn't meant to happen. Shouldn't have happened. Teldrassil will be avenged, either by me or someone else, I promise."

His furious attention turned to her just as the teleport completed, and a feral swipe of claws sailed through the air where her head had been a moment ago.

It was as she fell through time and space that Mal realised she'd forgotten her clothes.


	4. Absolutely Nobody Saw the Old Gods Coming

The smell of the sea permeated the air, and the sounds of the port far below her only barely reached Mal. She idly fingered the heavy pendant around her neck, Magni's gift, the jewel at the centre glowing in prismatic opalescent colours. She'd been surprised to have received the call from Azeroth's speaker - only finding out once she'd gotten there that it wasn't her Magni was bequeathing the Heart to, but Aluneth.

Naturally, the elf got the last laugh, because a staff could neither walk nor wear jewellery. Take that, smug arcane entity. No, her mission in Angleport was surveillance, given to her by the ever-insufferable Blightcaller, who had perfected the art of being an asshole. Then again, if her name was Nathan, she'd probably grow to hate all life as well.

_"The town is… disturbed,"_ Aluneth noted._ "Something is wrong." _

"I see," she muttered, not seeing. It just looked like your average stinky human town. Her muscles ached from the uncomfortable position she was in, she was hungry, and the salty air had done a number on her hair. Mal's mind drifted wistfully to the pastries and cakes of Silvermoon, the warmth of the sun, the pleasant smells of spring flowers in bloom.

Why was she surveying this dump again?

_"Wait. There! To your left!" _

Mal looked to her side, peering through the gloom.

_"Your other left!"_

She corrected herself, spotting a slender figure in dark robes who looked suspicious, albeit only in context of the narrative. Her eyes squinted, trying to spot any important details to their identity. This was an unnecessary task, as anyone wearing dark robes and skulking about at this time had to be a bad guy. Since the Alliance didn't wear black as a general rule, this meant a third party.

Mal nodded. "So we follow them."

She cast an invisibility cantrip and crept down the cliffs, keeping a close eye on her quarry. Naturally, she fucked it up, and tumbled down head over heels to land in a heap amidst a small pile of rubble. Aluneth landed on her head.

"Ow," she said, laying there and waiting for everything to stop spinning. Her staff nudged her, pushing Mal to get up and continue her pursuit. She dragged herself to her feet shakily, her vision coming into focus just in time to see the robed figure disappear into the mouth of a cave.

She pointed, matter-of-factly, at the dark opening. "That's a trap."

_"Or a gynocentric symbol." _

"…what?"

Carefully, Mal walked into the trap, because she's a fucking idiot. Aluneth surged with power, ready to unload at any sign of danger.

The cave was smaller than she'd expected, merely a small outcropping of rock surrounded by inky water. Her quarry knelt before an altar at the very end of the outcropping, hood drawn back to reveal long white hair.

"Welcome, Heart-bearer," the cultist said, rising to her feet and turning around dramatically. "We have been waiting for one such as you."

_"I think she's talking to you,"_ Aluneth whispered. _"Play along. I have a plan." _

Mal cleared her throat. "So it seems. What now, then? We fight?"

The cultist merely laughed. "You can try… but you've already lost, Heart-bearer."

From the water rose a vast mass of shadowy tentacles. Aluneth slipped into her hands, and arcane power surged through her, but she was knocked off of her feet by a swipe. The staff skittered off into the darkness. T

he cultist shrugged off her robe, revealing that she wore nothing underneath. Malyssa, who sort of knew where this was going by now, sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose as the tentacles wrapped around her and corroded a perfectly good set of robes. The secretions the slimy appendages left behind were… having a strange effect, an excited arousal building with the speeding rhythm of her heart.

One tentacle nudged over the package between her thighs, and it hesitated. The others retracted, leaving just her, and the feeler that seemed to stare at something it hadn't expected to find. Mal seized the opportunity, lunging away, only to find a burst of shadowy energy erupt around her and pin her in place.

The tentacle darted forward, wrapping itself around her cock and balls, its dark magic eating away at the enchantment. With growing horror, Malyssa realised just how far in over her head she was, as her genitals reverted to their original, fully feminine, form.

She cast a horrified glance at the cultist, who was nuzzling up against several tentacles of her own that curled around her limbs. Mal looked down at her own body - just in time to see the tentacle surge inside her.

Against her wishes, her head fell back, lips stretched into a wide 'o' as she was filled. Her insides clenched, even as she tried to break free from her dark chains. She shuddered in pleasure as the tentacle began to fuck her properly, the lack of foreplay outweighed by the aphrodisiac oil secreted all around the cave. She reached futilely for Aluneth, her hand clutching at air. That hand curled into a fist as she suppressed a cry.

The cultist's eyes rolled back into her head as the void tentacles wrapped around her breasts and throat. Mal struggled against her own bonds, a moan being involuntarily ripped from her lips as her own tentacle hit a particularly sweet spot inside.

"Do you - fg'ha! - do you feel it?" the cultist babbled. "He promises! He gives! Open yourself to him! Uul'wy c'tha!"

The whispers grew louder, more insistent. Pleasure radiated from her core. Smaller tentacles lay feathery touches on her nipples, her ears, her clit. Mal's eyes rolled back into her head as a particularly deep thrust intensified the thrilling feeling of fullness. _Give in,_ the whispers urged._ This could be yours forever. Do you not want to feel this forever?_

"Huqth hoq! Iilth kyth ak qov!" Mind completely gone, the cultist babbled unintelligibly as she was violated by the tentacles. "Thraxas hoq Daddy N'Zoth!"

_Sk'qov zaix shath'magg. _

Mal felt her will slipping as orgasm after orgasm wracked her body. She shook uncontrollably in her bonds, toes curling and primal screams rolling from her throat. The aphrodisiac properties of the eldritch oil made even the slightest feather-touch feel greater than any of her lovers' caresses. Nothing that felt this good could be bad. The cultist had spoken truly - this and more would N'Zoth give her, forever. The whispers painted the picture in her mind, her as queen to rival even Azshara herself. Men and women sprawled before her throne, begging for the chance to please her. Every dark fantasy she'd ever had, brought to life. A face between her thighs, lapping eagerly at her cunt as her ass was pounded by some godly hunk. Tanika, sitting on her face, writhing in ecstasy. The scene changed, and now she was tied down and blindfolded, supplicants gathering to use her as nothing more than fuck-meat before filling her and leaving Mal begging for more dick. Another change, and this time she was the dominant one, pounding away with a cock of her own. It could be hers. It would be so easy.

She… resisted. Oh Sunwell, it hurt to resist, with the images burning themselves onto her mind as her body was so utterly taken. Yet another tentacle took to plundering her ass, double-penetrating her with a thought-melting rhythm. In it went as the one in her pussy pulled back, only to thrust forward again with its partner receding. The tentacles swarming around her arms and breasts suctioned at her nipples, and the two tentacles inside her thrust inwards together. She came. Oh, by the Sunwell, she _came_. Her insides clenched down and squeezed in wild abandon with such force that even the inhuman strength pounding away at her had to struggle. It was impossible to tell where one orgasm ended and the next began, rolling through every-single-part-of-her and blanking her mind white with pleasure that overpowered even the whispered visions.

It was too much. Too much. _Save me,_ she implored. She sensed the satisfaction of the whispers, but it was not to them that Mal had directed her plea.

Aluneth manifested in front of her, and she grasped the staff. Arcane power erupted in a massive wave around her that eroded the tentacles into _nothing_. Mal dropped to the ground, bracing herself with her free hand as she pointed Aluneth at the altar. Mage and entity united in purpose as blinding energy unmade everything in its path.

When the aura of power faded, all trace of Old God presence had been wiped away. The cultist collapsed comatose, eyes rolled up into her head and tongue lolling out. Both the cultist and Mal were still stained with Old God oil and seed, but it had lost much of its arousing properties now.

The mage slumped forward, bracing herself on Aluneth so she didn't completely fall. Orgasmic aftershocks still wracked her body and the remnants of the visions danced at the edges of her consciousness.

"Get us out of here," she muttered breathlessly to the staff. When the glow of the teleport faded, Mal was just able to recognise the rocky cliffs near Angleport, before she collapsed and passed out in exhaustion.


	5. "Character Development is Important" and Other Hilarious Jokes you can Tell Yourself

Mal was awoken by a jostling motion underneath her. Groggily, she felt around, noticing that a) she was still naked and b) someone had thrown a blanket over her. She felt the presence of Aluneth next to her - hibernating, but still definitely in her possession.

Slowly, her eyes blinked open, and she was met with cold mountain air. She was in the back of a cart, travelling up - where?

"Hey, you. You're finally awake."

The mage sat upright, holding the blanket close to her. The blond-haired human in tatty clothes opposite her looked at her with a strange intensity.

"You were trying to sneak into Boralus, right? Walked right into the guard's patrol - same as us, and that gnome over there."

Mal turned her head to behold a white-bearded gnome with a red hat and blue shirt.

"What's going on?" she murmured.

The human shrugged. "We were running a route, just like any other, when the patrol caught us. You were there too, so they picked you up as well."

"One question, me old chum," the gnome coughed. "Where are your clothes?"

Mal thought back to the events of the previous night, her head fuzzy and her memory confused. "Uh… probably best I don't explain that. Look, I'm sorry, I'd love to stay and chat, but I really need to go."

"Good luck with that," the human snorted. "We're headed for the block, no doubt."

She grabbed Aluneth and shook the staff. _You in there? _

The mage felt the stirring of the consciousness within her weapon. A noise played in the back of her mind, suspiciously similar to the Windows XP starting noise. Aluneth made a noise, and Malyssa raised it into the air. Power pulsed, and dimensions shifted around her, and she was plucked through space and deposited once more in the wilderness of Tiragarde Sound.

Her head spun, and she clutched at her temple. Memories flitted across her mind, memories she was terrified to inspect and revisit.

Slowly. Deep breaths. Mal closed her eyes.

"What happened, Aluneth?"

_"There was an Old God cultist. You fought, and…" _

A whimper left her throat. She dropped to her knees, head bowed. Events came back to her, slowly at first, but soon washing over her into a flood. _No. No. No. This doesn't happen to me. I can't have been… _

She didn't want to say the word, didn't want to voice it, give it power. There were no tears. When her memory returned with crystal clarity, all she felt was an empty pit where her heart once was.

With shaking hands, she picked up the staff.

"Tell me everything you know about the Old God N'Zoth," she ordered, voice flat.

_"It was during the campaign against the Legion that I first heard that name. An old enemy of the Titans, an ageless god of insidious desire. Beneath the waves He resides, yet His reach spans far beyond the shore. Within Antorus, the burning throne of the Legion, I learnt of Sargeras' true purpose - to rid the universe of life in order to protect it from the Void and the dark beings that commanded it." _

Mal clutched Aluneth hard enough that her knuckles turned white. "And now N'Zoth is truly awake."

_"And now He is awake. He is hungry, child. His appetite and His plans are far-reaching, and He will not be sated by you alone, no matter how powerful you may be becoming." _

She laughed bitterly. "To think the Alliance and Horde are at each other's throats. This is all part of his plan, isn't it?"

_"I would not be surprised if it was."_

Her hands moved in the air, drawing runes of power. "I'm going to Karazhan. There is an archmage I need to talk to."

***

Freshly clothed (in robes admittedly stolen), and newly resolute, Malyssa stood before the gates of Karazhan as they opened before her of their own accord. Nobody came out to greet her, yet she entered anyway. Rage burnt in the back of her mind at the utter foolishness of the Horde and the Alliance. And, yes, at herself, too, for buying into the lie.

"Khadgar!" she called out, her voice echoing off of the dark stone walls and the staircases that spiralled up, up, and up.

No response from the archmage. Mal frowned.

_"Maybe he's cleaning the basement of mushrooms?"_ Aluneth said, a sneer slightly evident.

"No," she mused. "He prefers cocaine." The mage moved on through the eerie silence, heading up towards the living quarters. She felt as though spirits of long-forgotten times were watching her, ghosts that stalked out from the dilapidated finery. It was warm inside the tower, but she shivered nonetheless.

As she climbed up, the weight of Karazhan's history fell evermore upon her shoulders. In her hand, Aluneth seemed to seethe with… anger? Clearly, the entity within the staff had some history with the Guardians that had built the place.

At long last she reached the door to Khadgar's room. Taking a moment to catch her breath and straighten her hair, she knocked - firmly, but not aggressively.

Again, there was no response. Mal waited a minute, and knocked once more.

"Damn it, " she muttered, and opened the door.

The room was empty, but showed no signs as to anything being out of the order. Its furnishings were lush, bookshelves lining three walls and a large poster bed next to a closet at the other. An oak table sat in the centre of the room. Her eyes glanced over personal trappings, not wanting to overly intrude on his privacy.

Power surged at her fingertips, ready to defend herself if necessary. Once more, she called out.

"…Khadgar?"

A muffled thump, the sound of crashing on wood, and the door of the closet swung wide open. Khadgar fell out, clutching in his hands a rainbow-glowing amulet.

"Sorry," he opened. "It got lost in the wash. What are you doing in my bedroom?"

Mal and Aluneth looked at each other, then back to the archmage.

"Where to begin?" she sighed. "So, you cloistered yourself in here when the factions started fighting again, and basically everything's gone to shit while you were away."

"Even an archmage needs a sulk sometimes," Khadgar nodded sagely.

"Uh… right. Well, anyway, there's an Old God on the rise. I was kind of hoping you'd be able to help."

Serious now, Khadgar studied her intensely. Mal cocked her head and straightened her back, making sure to display Aluneth.

"Oh. Hello, Aluneth. I didn't see you there."

_"Hello, asshole." _

The archmage cleared his throat. "I spoke to Magni, recently, about the process of healing the world's wounds. This isn't the first thing either of us have heard about N'Zoth."

"And?"

He flashed a smile. "There was an idea to put together a group of remarkable people…"

"You've got to be fucking kidding me. That's what you're going with?"

"Ok, it's trite phrasing, but the idea's serious. A team of champions, independent of the Alliance and the Horde, responding to what really threatens the world."

Mal considered the idea and realised it was both practical and effective. History showed that you put twenty-odd random adventurers against pretty much anything, and the adventurers came out on top. Funny how it worked, but sometimes it do be like that.

"So, what? You wait for people to submit their resumes, then hire the cheapest ones as unpaid interns before firing them just before their free probation period ends?"

"Oh, no. I'm a communist. Magni and I have been searching for promising heroes across all of Azeroth."

"Ah, so it's a 'don't call us, we'll call you' situation."

Khadgar grimaced. "We don't exactly have the numbers to be picky."

"Bit of a mood. Roster issues suck. Alright, I'm in, unless the team logo has a capital A anywhere on it."

"Better yet." The archmage pointed to the heart of Azeroth around her neck. "That's our emblem. We'll turn the Chamber of the Heart into our base. Then, when we're ready, we'll all take on N'Zoth together."

Mal felt the metaphysical equivalent of an eye roll from Aluneth, but found herself inspired nonetheless.

"What do I do in the meanwhile, then?" she asked.

Khadgar shook his head. "Anything you want. Meet Magni and I at the Chamber in a week's time. There, we will begin preparations."


	6. ...And Back To Our Regularly Scheduled Lesbian Sex

_"I don't want to have to think about it,"_ Aluneth's voice echoed in her head, _"But you do what you need to do."_ Any illusion that the staff cared about her wellbeing was shattered by its next words._ "You're a marginally better option than a Dalaran storage room." _

An aura of suspense hung over the Eversong Woods, masked as ever by the decadence of elven living. With the Undercity fallen, very little stood in the way of an Alliance invasion northwards. Everyone knew it, even if they pretended otherwise.

Mal was too focused on greater concerns. The war was a backdrop for the true issue here. Faux hedonism would not mask her anxieties. Thus, she walked through Silvermoon once more.

_Maybe I should end the war. My power's still growing. I could rule… everything. Destroy everything that sought to hurt me. _

She blinked. That was an unusual thought for her. It hadn't come from Aluneth either.

A great big statue of Nathanos the Blightcaller dominated the central square, much to the mage's surprise. She opted to ask a guard about this.

"The Warchief wants to make Nathanos the face of the elven ranger organisation," he responded. Mal considered this, and then shrugged.

"Well, far from me to deny him an opportunity."

She came to Tanika's door, and hesitated. _Should I knock?_ She was welcome, but…

Mal took a deep breath. _I have to do this. It'll never stop otherwise. _

She knocked. And waited.

Tanika answered quickly, her eyes lighting up with delight once she saw who it was. She squealed, embracing Mal in a tight hug. The mage stiffened, before shakily reaching out to return the embrace.

"You're back early! Are you on break? Is the war ending? You're not injured, are you?"

Mal pulled away, shaking her head to stop the questions game. "No, no, and, uh… can we talk more inside?"

"Of course!" she ushered her in, still smiling. Mal envied her. As the two women sat down on Tanika's lounge, the mage took a deep breath.

"In answer to your question," she began, "I guess you could say I've left the Horde."

The words hit Tanika like a thunderbolt, her jaw dropping. "What do you mean, left the Horde?" she gasped. "Is that… legal?"

Mal shrugged. "I made it legal. This war is stupid, especially when there's bigger things to worry about."

Tanika's hand reached out to rest on Mal's leg, which jerked away instinctively. Their eyes met.

"What's wrong, Mal?" she asked, worry in her gaze. "Why are you so… so…"

"Recalcitrant?" the mage took a breath. "I'm working directly with Khadgar and Magni on a special mission. They're repurposing the Chamber of the Heart for a secret base, and forming an elite team which apparently I qualify for."

"That sounds like an awfully convoluted plan just for cooking ket."

"What? No, it's not about drugs this time."

"So what is it?"

Another breath. It all came tumbling out - the Old God, Khadgar's plan, her… what had happened to her. Tanika listened, her eyes widening with every sentence.

Her friend's hand hovered over her own, but Tanika apparently thought better of it and withdrew.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. Mal shrugged.

"It wasn't your fault, and there's nothing you could've done."

"I could've told you not to join this stupid war."

The mage looked at Aluneth, inwardly cursing that she was about to say exactly what the staff would want to hear. "No, then it'd just have been another poor fool. I could fight back. I _will_ fight back."

Tanika's worry was written in her eyes. "I know you're powerful, but please be careful. If anything happens… uh, if anything worse happens to you…"

"I know," Mal said, hugging her legs. "I'm already… concerned."

_Then destroy what concerns you!_ her inner voice snapped. _You are the master, not the fear. _

"What can I help with, then?" Tanika responded instantly.

"I'm frightened, Tanika. About N'Zoth, but also about me. I'm afraid that I'll never be able to be… intimate, again - without freaking out, at least. I don't know if I can let someone that close."

"I understand why," her friend nodded. "As much as I can, anyway. I'll help you, if you'll let me."

Mal gulped. Sure, she and Tanika had fooled around before to a certain extent - but only sucking each other off casually, nothing uncomfortably intimate. She had some apprehension about how this might affect their friendship, but if she couldn't do this with someone she trusted utterly…

"Alright." Her response was barely a breath.

It started slowly. Tanika's hands took Mal's own, guiding them and slipping them around her waist to draw them closer together. The mage's hands shook ever so slightly, but she forced herself to hold still. At a glacial pace, her friend caressed Mal's hips, her thighs, her cheek. She drew off the mage's robes. Mal forced her breathing to remain as even as she could, leaning into Tanika as soft hands stroked her skin. Slowly, her friend's hand slid down past her navel.

Tanika whispered into her ear. "Tell me if you need me to stop. At any point."

Mal squeezed her eyes shut, nodding slightly. As Tanika laid a soft kiss upon her, the other woman's fingers caressed another pair of lips.

It was slow, far slower than the frenetic sex Mal was used to - but it stole away the tension in her shoulders and brushed away the weight on her heart with soft kisses. Tanika's palm rubbed softly on her clit as her fingers curled up inside and rubbed along her inner walls.

The elf giggled, and withdrew her hand. Touching her forehead to Mal's, she placed her fingers between their faces. Mal felt a blush spread across her cheeks as she saw the shimmer of wetness upon those slender digits.

"Open wide," Tanika teased, brushing the mage's lips. Meekly, Mal opened her mouth and sucked. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't tasted herself before - it was an act that always brought a lewd thrill and a rush of blood to her face.

Keeping her fingers in Mal's mouth, Tanika leaned forward and pressed their lips together as best she could. Her hand moved away, and they kissed. It started as a demure peck, until their lips parted and their tongues touched. They pressed together, bodies coiled together, entwined in a tight embrace as the kiss ever deepened. It felt like an aeon before they finally drew apart for breath, still wrapped in each other's arms, still relishing in the warmth of skin.

Mal noticed that she wasn't the only one flustered. A rosy red suffused Tanika's own cheeks, a blush she tried to pass off with a coy smile.

"Finally, some good fucking food," Tanika smirked. She pushed herself up slightly, beginning to slowly grind on Mal's thigh. The mage reached out, running her hands up and down the curve of Tanika's hips.

"You're so… soft," she whispered, pushing up her leg to better enable her friend's grinding.

She giggled. "You only just noticed? Oh, and _you're_ wet."

Her fingers slipped back inside Mal, and the mage's eyes almost rolled back into her head at the sudden sensation. Tanika was right, she was absolutely sopping wet - a lewd schlick-schlick sound gushed from the other woman's fingers as they insistently slipped in and out, in and out. Her chest fluttered in time with the rapid increase of her breathing, her fingers scratching at Tanika's back as she felt teeth nip and bite at her breasts. Breaths, hot and heavy, beat across her chest, in time to the crescendo of gasps that left Mal's own mouth as she surrendered herself to the hands that touched her.

From the fevered grinding of Tanika's slit against her thigh, and the unmistakeable wetness that seeped across it, it was only obvious that Mal's partner was equally excited.

Words fell out in hot gasps. "Mal. I'm going to cum soon."

"Me too," she whispered in response. "But you first."

A grin. "Don't think so."

The finger slipped in and out of Mal's drenched tunnel with even more intensity, and the mage responded by thrusting up with her leg to grind back at the wet slit moving up and down her thigh.

In the end, Tanika cracked first, the insistent thrusting of her fingers jerking erratically as her legs shook. She nigh-collapsed, forehead resting on Malyssa's own as a long groan of release was drawn out of her.

Mal wrapped her arms around Tanika, running her hands down her back before she realised that the sudden, intimate contact _hadn't_ startled her - and then, as Tanika pushed in her fingers, and ever-so-slightly scraped them against the mage's inner walls, her own orgasm hit.

Her mind went blank, and when the spasms stopped and the gyration of her hips slowed, Mal found her head resting in the crook of Tanika's neck, able to feel both of their heartbeats as they slowly returned to normal.

Together, they caught their breath. Mal closed her eyes and pressed further into Tanika's warmth, and felt her friend smile.

"Feeling any better?" she asked. The mage nodded in response.

"Much. I was worried I'd freak out."

"Did you?"

She giggled. "Only in the good way."

Tanika smiled. "Perfect. Should I continue, or…?"

Mal shook her head. "No. That was draining. Emotionally," she added hastily.

There was a long silence then, a comfortable silence of two friends simply enjoying each other's company. Mal slowly realised that her fears of things changing between them had been rather unfounded. Nothing about her feelings had shifted, and when the mage pushed herself up Tanika let her go without any hesitation.

"So what'll you do now?" the other elf asked.

"I can't stay here," Mal admitted. "Silvermoon is a Horde city, after all. Or - wait, have we motioned to leave the Horde yet?"

"No, that was in the whole Pandaria thing."

"Oh. Sorry, I get those two events confused."

Mal rose up from the bed, reaching for her discarded clothes.

"You're not leaving this soon, are you?" Tanika asked.

The mage sighed deeply. "I planned to stay as long as I could - well, until people start asking questions. Uh, do you happen to know what they do to deserters?"

"I do," she replied gravely.

"Oh. Don't tell me, because I only skimmed the rules and really would prefer to be ignorant on this one."

Tanika smiled softly, but Mal could sense the worry hidden behind the expression. The mage started to head towards the bathroom, then stopped, sighing.

"We mightn't see each other for some time," she said bluntly. "So… thank you. For this, and just generally not thinking I'm a total dumbass."

"I do think you're a total dumbass."

"Oh. Well, then appreciating me despite it."

"Partially because of it. Don't sell yourself short. Are you worried… that you might not come back?"

"A little bit," Mal confessed. "Who would win; ancient eldritch monstrosities yeeted onto the planet by extradimensional gods, or a shitty wizard with a talking staff?"

"Don't think about it too much," Tanika responded with a grimace. "You're a big girl, you can take care of yourself."

Mal shook her head. "I hope so. I really, really hope so."


	7. Scottish People Twitter

Ultimately, the living arrangements in Magni's encampment were extremely comfortable in the way that a bad molly trip wasn't. It was, however, the least of Malyssa's concerns - as she'd found out shortly after arrival. A teleport pad led her underground into the Chamber of the Heart, a rather impressive-looking titan complex of labyrinthine chambers and hallways - helpfully labelled, so even she couldn't get lost. The mage arrived at the room serving as Magni's office after a brisk walk, brushing past a sleazy-looking goblin shaman just as he was leaving.

Ensconced behind a desk in a large chair, the diamond king shook his head gravely as he saw her enter, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a leaf of paper.

"I'm here," she said, hands raised helplessly.

_"So am I." _

"So's Aluneth. What now?"

"Och, ye cannae know how fooked ye are, lass. Like, ye're right fookin in deep shite up tae ye wee little choker."

_"Did you understand a word of that?"_ Aluneth asked Mal in her head.

"Not a single one," she murmured back. To Magni, she responded, "It's not good, is it?"

"Nay. Ye're no meant ta be full a' Old God jooce, now are ye? We got a little bit more than a wee bit o' a problem here. I cannae have ye just walkin' around tha camp lit N'Zoth been hanging oot yer."

Mal gestured at the page Magni was holding. "That's the list of problematic symptoms of corruption?"

"Aye," he answered. Then he pulled the page out further. And further. And further. A solid metre of paper came out of the drawer. Frantically, the mage motioned for him to stop.

"That's enough, that's enough!" she yelped. "Fuck, it's worse than my school record!"

"Ach, sorry lass. Ye ken see me point."

"So what is the plan?"

Magni pointed at the amulet around her neck. "Ye Heart o' Azeroth. We charge that shite full o' more magic crack than a junkie out 'a front o' Kharanos' train station and that oot keep N'Zoth away from ye mind."

"Uh, ok. Totally doesn't sound like it'll backfire at all."

"It'll be fine, lass. Ye ken nae worry, it were Khadgar's idea."

_"I think that actually makes it sound even worse."_

"We'll fook up that Englishman when we get tae it. Now let's go introduce ye to yer new friends."

The dwarf jumped off his chair and headed out the door, clearly expecting her to follow. Mal made a face and did so, her much longer legs easily able to keep stride. She found herself led to a common room, her eye immediately caught by the table full of snacks and refreshments. Carefully-made sandwiches with all sorts of meats and salads were arranged into a delicate formation upon a platter. Crispy crab legs (how did you even get those here?), fried to golden perfection, in a large bucket with a dipping sauce. A pitcher of fruit juice, red as the blood of innocents, next to a bowl full of grapes. Mal found herself salivating, a hunger inside her she had not realised growing and growing, like it came from her very soul.

She realised she'd spaced out. Oops. Magni had let in several other people - the goblin shaman she'd seen earlier, an orc wearing shoulderplates larger than his head, a female gnome muttering what seemed to be engineering equations to herself, a male night elf in the robes of a druid, and a female draenei paladin whose armour reminded Mal of the strobe lighting of a music festival stage.

"Ye be Azeroth's finest," the dwarf continued. "And ye'll be workin' tae fix all this shite. Now take a seat."

Tentatively, the six 'heroes' each headed for their nearest chair and sat down. Magni clapped the shoulder of the night elf, who winced and tried to look invisible.

"Excellent! Ye ken nae be worried, we're all mates here. Now, I'll let ye banter and go do some fookin lines to help with me paperwork. Go round the circle and introduce yeselves or some shite."

She'd never imagined a dwarf could disappear into another room so quickly, leaving only his final terrifying sentence to be pondered by the six of them.

"I can't believe he said that," the gnome deadpanned.

The night elf rubbed at his shoulder. "That hurt."

Of them all, the only one who didn't seem to be paralysed by awkwardness was the draenei paladin, who cleared her throat. "I'll go first, then. I'm Elliaane. Ell-ee-ah-nae. There should probably be an accent over the last letter, but Mum and Dad weren't very good at alt codes."

"Urok Wolfwind." This was the orc, who spoke gutturally and firmly. "My people have been corrupted before. I will not let it happen again."

Next to speak was, surprisingly, the goblin. "Yeah, whatever. Rizzik Gallywix. Yes, distant relation. I'm not as fat and not as greedy."

"I hope not!" the gnome exclaimed, interrupting her muttered equations. "Anyway, I'm Ezralette."

"Marus Wildtallow," the druid continued. Mal realised this left her for last.

"Uh, hi. My name's Malyssa, and this is already feeling like those Alcoholics Anonymous meetings I don't go to."

"So… should we talk about ourselves, our interests?" Marus asked. Rizzik snorted.

"_Fuck_ no," he said emphatically. "I ain't making this any weirder. Pass the crab legs."

Mal pulled one out of the bucket and tossed it towards the goblin. He munched contentedly. She was reminded of the way the lynxes back in Eversong Woods would crunch down on bone and suck at the marrow within. She tried, unsuccessfully, to rid herself of the unpleasant thoughts and do something to ease the awkward tension in the room.

_What do you usually do when this happens?_ She thought, and the answer was unfortunately 'run away'. Not really an option here, nor was her second choice, 'get drunk'.

Which left the dreaded _option three… _

"Let's maybe get to work on our plans to save Azeroth, then?" Elliaane suggested.

Mal shuddered. Truly, a fate worse than death.

Fifteen minutes of painful, frustrating bickering followed. Her frustration simmered, then boiled, until all she wanted to do was _let loose_ and _tear this place to the ground_. If this was the best that Azeroth could bring to her defence, then maybe N'Zoth deserved to win.

Worse was the other emotion she was starting to feel, as her eyes flicked between the taller three of her new allies. Mal wouldn't exactly deny that she was a stranger to the idea of 'hatefucking', but Sunwell be damned if she was going to give anyone here that satisfaction.

Urok ended his latest snarling outburst, and that did it. She'd had enough. Mal pushed herself out of her chair and stalked away, sick of the constant unproductive shouting. She ignored Elliaane's pleas, and even left Aluneth behind as she stormed to her private quarters and slammed the door shut.

Her chest heaved and she clenched her body so hard she shook slightly. Although the room was largely unfurnished and she hadn't even started unpacking besides the essentials, the bed was large and looked extremely comfortable. One hand crept up behind her to click shut the lock on the door, and then Mal hurled herself forward, leaping onto the mattress.

Why the _fuck_ was she so turned on, and what had caused it? It hung over her mind like a shadow, obscuring her rational thought and even eclipsing her frustration. She tore her clothes off so roughly they almost ripped, casting them carelessly to the side as she lay on her back with hands resting on her stomach. Her legs spread open slightly. Mal's right hand crept lower, testing herself and unsurprisingly finding herself utterly drenched. She hissed, lightly brushing her fingers against her clit to test the sensation. Then she did it again, more confidently.

There was definitely sensation, but there wasn't enough. Not even close. Even more frustrated, Mal slammed her other hand against the bed hard enough that it hurt. Power beaded at her fingertips and swelled inside. Her hands raised, twisted into painful shapes, and energy rolled out in a wave to reshape space by her will. When the surge subsided, the object of her creation sat dauntingly before her.

As far as her conjured sex toys went, this was by far the most excessive, both in size and structure. It was huge, and bulged in strange shapes. Her lips curved up into a vicious smile as she looked it over. A snap of her fingers and rivulets of liquid lubricant rolled from the tip to coat the thing in its entirety.

Mal hopped up onto the bed and straddled her conjuration, pushing down on it lightly with her lower lips to test it. She felt it push in slightly, and stopped for a moment, before aligning the tip with her backdoor.

She hissed in almost pained satisfaction as it pushed in, slowly spreading her open. Her breath spilled out in soft gasps as she forced herself further down, filled herself so delectably. Inch after inch was forced inside, until she rested almost at the base of her toy. Mal rolled her hips, grinding it around inside her, letting out a long moan as the sheer size pushed against her inner erogenous zones even through the walls of her pussy.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, she pushed up off of the toy, relishing in the feeling of her insides gripping every ridge and bump and the emptiness left in the wake of their passing. She pulled it all the way out, feeling her backdoor winking and straining to return to its original shape. Mal didn't let it - after pausing just a moment for breath, she sat back down, hungry for the delicious ache. She fucked herself slowly, biting her lip to stifle the noises she made with every motion.

Waves of pleasure coursed through her even without her using her hands to touch herself. It was so fucking thick, and the way sparks flew every time one of the ridges pressed against somewhere sensitive was utterly _delightful_.

It burst with absolutely no warning, an anal-only orgasm that ripped a cry from her throat. Mal's legs shook as she slipped down to the base, hilting herself to ride out her peak. Every shiver of her hips sent another shock of pleasure through her, and she bit down on her hand to prevent the entire facility hearing. Her eyes blurred with tears.

Still it didn't stop. If anything, it got more intense until at last all she could do was hurl her head back with a strangled cry and wrench herself off of the toy to collapse in a shivering pile on her sheets until the shocks finally slowed.

"Ow," she mumbled, rubbing her now-sore backside from having pulled herself off far, far too quickly. Her other hand reached down to frenetically rub her clit, driving her almost instantly to another climax that drenched her thighs and the sheets she lay on.

As she lay shivering with gasps occasionally escaping from her, the tense frustration bled away as if washed into the dampness on the sheets. Mal shakily pulled herself back together and dragged herself into the en suite to wash up.

A soft knock on the door interrupted her as she splashed water on her face. Startled, she jumped and almost slipped on the tiles.

"Who is it?" she called.

"It's me," the voice of Elliaane responded.

"Uh!" Mal wrapped a towel around herself as quickly as she could. "Hold on a moment?"

She quickly walked back to the door, opening it slightly and peeking her head out around it to see the concerned face of the draenei.

"Are you alright?" Elliaane asked. "I hope the meeting wasn't too harsh on you. I heard noises coming from here, and it sounded like you might have been crying?"

"Uh. I'm fine. Just had a moment," Mal lied. She thought she might've felt a bead of sweat begin to form on her face and wiped it away quickly.

"You're sure? You look a bit flushed."

"No, really! I'm fine, everything's ok, you don't need to come in and check on me, thank you though!"

The draenei frowned. "If you're sure. I was just worrying, that's all."

"Ah, yeah! No, it's fine. I'll come out soon?"

This seemed to placate her. "Very well. Take care, Malyssa."

Mal closed the door and leaned with her back to it. She let out a bark of nervous laughter. _I'm such a mess. The fuck am I doing with my life? _

Her eyes glanced at the toy she'd conjured, and a blush spread across her cheeks._ That was in me. Oh wow. And I_ liked_ it, too. Except now my ass hurts. _

She blinked twice, and the toy vanished back into the aether with a sound not unlike that of water flushing down a drain. Mal took a moment to wonder what to do next.

_I guess I should get dressed and go back out. I hope I didn't make a mess of my outfit. _

She wondered what Aluneth would make of the whole situation, and was suddenly very glad the staff never had to find out about it.


	8. Under the Sea

The sea wind blew her hair across her face, almost enough of a distraction to tear her thoughts from the crumpled piece of paper Malyssa held in her hand. The rocking of the hired Steamwheedle cartel ship on the waves was likewise useless. Even Aluneth was quiet, which was probably in the staff's best interests because one more snarky comment and she swore to Kael'thas she was going to hurl the thing into the ocean.

From below deck, Urok emerged, the orc looking a lot less intimidating after a few days of seasickness.

"You wanted to see me?" he asked, cautiously and surprised. They weren't at 'trust' yet, although they were getting there. So far, this mission had consisted mostly of them avoiding each other as best they could while going about their own individual tasks.

Mal clenched the missive she held even harder. "…they attacked Dazar'alor, Urok. Rastakhan's dead."

"Wha- the Alliance? With what fleet?"

"They've been busy the last few months. The estranged Archmage Proudmoore has wooed Kul Tiras back into the Alliance, and subsequently launched a sneak attack on the Zandalari. The Horde fleet is crippled, and the trolls' resolve wavers."

"Jaina - the fleet - the - since when have you used words like 'estranged' and 'wooed', anyway?"

She didn't respond. Being around the sea made her uncomfortable, thoughts of what happened at Angleport worming their way into her mind.

The Horde fleet had been sabotaged with explosives, hundreds of sailors drowning in the sea. Mal wondered what it was like, compared to other deaths.

_Since when have I gotten so dark?_ she wondered, and found herself answered by the scent of saltwater.

"The war could be over sooner than we think," she mused. "Between the Kul Tiran fleet, sheer weight of numbers, and the Vindicaar, I don't really see how we- how the Horde can win a protracted engagement."

"The Vindicaar? I thought they'd forgotten all about it?"

"It's a spaceship with an orbital cannon. How could anyone possibly forget about that?"

_"If I may interject,"_ Aluneth interjected, leaving its polite request to interject rather pointless, _"I would not discount Sylvanas' schemes. The Banshee Queen is cunning and no doubt has some plan to even the odds and further her own goals." _

Mal and Urok looked at each other, and she thought for a minute she heard the sound of a gun cocking. Then she shook her head.

"Nah. Horde's pretty fucked."

The orc snorted in amusement, although a tinge of pain crossed his features. One of the goblin crew thankfully salvaged the situation, coughing to get their attention.

"Island's coming up, bosses. Azerite extractor's ready to go."

Urok instantly switched into business mode. "Good. We land, salvage as much Azerite as we can, and get out before anyone else knew we were here. Malyssa, please don't turn invisible and run off to collect rocks while leaving all the actual, difficult fighting to me."

"Wow. You make it sound like that's a common thing mages do when pillaging islands."

The orc's gaze became vacant, staring at the island on the horizon, and Mal came to the realisation that this guy had seen some shit in the random group finder. She reached out awkwardly to pat him on the shoulder.

"We've got this," she reassured him. Urok shook his head.

"You'd better be right."

***

"Azerite stores full. We're fuckin' off!"

"You heard the goblin!" Urok called to her. "Make for the boat!"

Mal twirled Aluneth in front of her, turning a charging naga into a very surprised looking sheep. She turned and ran, ducking under a frozen bolt fired by one of the sirens.

The duo scrambled onto the boat, the goblin crew hauling up the docking plank behind them. The ship pushed off from the shore far too slowly, the oncoming waves of naga beginning to throw harpoons and spells. Mal moved in a dazzling dance, deflecting projectiles and freezing the ground to impede the charge. Finally, the ship managed to get away from the shore, allowing its sails to catch the ocean wind and take them across the waves. The naga were left behind.

Mal punched the air with a cheer, still high on adrenaline. "We're so fucking good!" she yelled.

"If only our fortune was that good," Urok rumbled. "Now we know Azshara's after the Azerite, too."

"Ok, be fair, we already knew that. Anyone who didn't think she'd be going after it was kidding themselves."

"Yet it is only now confirmed."

"That's like needing confirmation that someone calling themselves a race realist is actually just an asshole looking for a flimsy excuse to start up a really fun summer camp. Anyway, I'm going to go wash the fish-person blood off and prepare myself for a lovely sea cruise back to the dwarf."

Urok nodded. "Yes. I'll do the same. We can compare notes afterwards."

Mal went into her cabin, stripping out of her combat gear and cleaning herself as best she could with the washing cloths she had at hand. Changing into a one-piece swimsuit, she headed back abovedeck and slumped into a deck chair overlooking the goblin crew.

She was joined after a few minutes by a similarly-refreshed Urok, although he'd opted for a much more conservative outfit. He gazed at her incredulously as she lay stretched out on her chair, looking very relaxed despite her recent brush with death.

"Why did you even bring a swimsuit with you?" he asked with a shake of his head.

"To sunbake, obviously. There's another chair here, you should join me."

"How can you be so relaxed knowing that we have to wage a secret war against an old god?"

"It's precisely _because_ I have to wage a secret war against an old god that I'm trying to relax like this, dear Urok," she drawled. "Besides, I had very little in the way of responsibilities before this. Give me some time to acclimatise."

He harrumphed, and collapsed into the other chair. They lay there for a few minutes, appreciating the warmth of the sun's rays. It really _was_ a nice day, angry naga aside.

"Is that why you had to run to your rooms the first time we all met?" Urok asked suddenly. "Too much happening at once, a bit shocking?"

She almost corrected him on what actually happened before catching herself, only a surprised half-choke escaping her. Instead, she shrugged, not wanting to directly lie. Just… you know. Bend the truth like canon in a fanfiction.

"It was a lot to deal with," Mal said neutrally.

Another few minutes of peaceful silence. Again, it was broken by Urok.

"I don't mean to assume too much. But, I have known several blood elves, and you… ah… seem to be a certain kind of them. Did you have… ulterior motives bringing me up here?"

"What? No!" Mal laughed. "Although… if you're offering?"

The orc laughed too. "Definitely not. I'm very much not interested in your kind."

"…Elves?" She was answered by silence and a smirk. It dawned on her soon after. "Oh. You swing _that_ way. I guess I missed and that's first strike, then?"

"I thought it was obvious. Which team do you bat for?"

"Well. I more or less play catcher for anyone interested."

"So you are that kind of blood elf."

She gave him finger-guns. "And proud."

The sun got even warmer as the afternoon drifted on. The lull of the waves calmed Malyssa as the adrenaline left her, and soon she was responding to Urok only in hums of affirmation or disagreement. Her eyes fell shut, and no effort would open them. And honestly, why bother? She'd earned a nap.

At last, she felt herself drift off.

Yet her rest was not so easy. The dreams had returned.

Oh, she'd had strange dreams for a while - ever since coming into possession of Aluneth, actually. Yet this one was more vivid, far too real to be even remotely pleasant.

Malyssa drifted along a turquoise ocean in a small, solitary rowboat. In each direction around her, the horizon was utterly barren, completely flat. The isolation was disconcerting, almost frightening, triggering a primal agoraphobia buried somewhere deep in the consciousness of every living creature. The fear of being utterly, eternally alone.

It felt like hours that she drifted in that ethereal place. She couldn't place whether this was a dream or a nightmare. She couldn't even see under the surface of the water, so deep was its blue, and reaching down into it with her hand only sent ripples sailing away like echoes.

Her dream-self started singing, a mournful tune that carried across the desolate seas. It was somewhat jarring, because when she normally sang Mal sounded somewhat like a cat giving anal birth to a pineapple, but here it was crystalline in its beauty.

As the final notes faded, her loneliness was ended.

"No, that won't do at all."

The voice was a sultry purr with a slight echo to it, unmistakeably feminine and seductive along with it. Mal's dream-self didn't react, although the part of her mind that was aware this was a dream recoiled in shock. The water parted.

Queen Azshara, for it could be no other, had assumed a night elven form for this dream meeting. She was ravishingly beautiful, every movement aching with sensual grace that the queen was very aware of and drew power from.

Mal was left with the age-old question of 'do I want to be her or be in her?', although since her dream-self was very much doing its own thing she was thankfully not staring and instead was just wondering how much she'd enjoy getting punched in the face by Azshara.

The queen floated around the now-still boat in a languid circle, the water parting into small waves beneath her feet. Once behind Mal, she leaned down and gently stroked the mage's shoulders, whispering into her ear.

"You are nowhere near prepared for what sleeps beneath the tides, little one." This close, her voice raised the hairs on Mal's arms and caused her face to flush red. "You're powerless here. Your dreams are not your own, as I'm sure I am demonstrating."

Her dream-self moved, only slightly. Its mouth opened and Mal found her thoughts spilling out. "Is this revenge for your followers on that island?"

Azshara chuckled. "You haven't thwarted my plans. You have barely inconvenienced them. All you have done is made me aware of your existence." Her hand drifted to caress the mage's collarbone and trace along her throat. "And now my plans involve you."

"I won't serve you," Mal whispered.

The queen drew back. "Oh, my dear. You already do."

The ocean flickered, and then Mal was alone again, falling endlessly through lightless gulfs of deep ocean. From the utter blackness, she was being watched.

Azshara was still talking. "Have you ever had a lucid dream, Malyssa? We are both sorceresses. If you can control a dream, is it even different from reality?"

The darkness closed in further. She couldn't breathe.

"When you wake, you will carry a little part of this dream within you. It will be what nurtures you in the days to come. I am especially interested in seeing _your_ progress."

Malyssa fell ever deeper into nightmare, until she was so deep that she fell through. It was evening back in the world of the waking, and Urok had long left.

She shivered, but not from the cold.


	9. Interlude: An Inquest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I tried to avoid diverging from canon as much as possible, but BfA's story is so atrociously done down to almost every last detail that I feel like I have to. So from here on out, expect some differences.

The plan had been to take Teldrassil hostage. Instead, it had burned.

Sylvanas had reportedly been furious, Saurfang horrified. Regardless of the veracity of that hearsay, an inquest had been established to investigate why the tree now lay a smouldering ruin. An inquest that Urok Wolfwind had been placed at the head of.

Possibly this was just a way to placate the tauren, who had just about been ready to leave the Horde altogether after the catastrophe. According to _another_ rumour fresh off the mill, Baine had stomped into the warchief's throne room and told her in no uncertain terms exactly where she could put her war unless she came up with an acceptable answer to why the World Tree was looking like the aftermath of a fire mage's burst window. This rumour was almost believable, except for Baine being a hopeless pacifist.

Then again, everyone had their final straw, and perhaps this was his? Regardless, Nathanos Blightcaller - or, as Urok had more often heard him referred to as, 'that bastard' - had taken the orc aside and promised a pay raise and a cool hat if the inquest was done properly. The implicit threat if the task was _not_ fulfilled did not go ignored.

Just think of the hat.

Es'jin was on rowing duties, the troll's thin but strong arms effortlessly piloting the small boat through the night sea towards the stump of the tree. Behind him sat Zerron, snacking on something that Urok hoped wasn't a deep-fried imp but probably was, knowing him. The undead warlock had some interesting habits, but the trio had stuck together for years and were more or less inseparable.

"Ey, mon, where chu wan' us ta land?" Es'jin asked. Urok peered through the sea mist towards the shore before pointing at the mouth of a cave.

"Start there," he suggested. "We'll look for one of the infiltration teams first."

Zerron spoke over the sounds of him crunching through food. "You think something happened to them?"

"Could be. None of the catapults on Darkshore were fired, so it's likely something that came from the tree itself."

They docked shortly after, gingerly stepping through the maze of rocks to get inside. The cave was even deeper than it had appeared from the outside. As Zerron ignited a hand into a hellfire torch and peered with it into the yawning chasm, he shook his head despondently.

"This had better be one hell of a hat," the warlock groaned, before heading in deeper with the other two just behind.

"It's not like ya sleep, mon," Es'jin shrugged. "What cha be doing instead at this time?"

"Your mother, probably," Zerron shot back in a huff.

Urok sighed. "We've been over this, joking about mothers isn't witty, it just makes you sound twelve."

"You wouldn't survive five minutes in a Modern Warfare 2 lobby."

"I don't even know what that _is_."

"I be smelling sometin' weird," the troll interrupted. "Anyone else?"

Urok sniffed. "Now that you mention it, yes. Any idea what it could be?"

"Don't look at me," Zerron shrugged. "I haven't smelt anything but formaldehyde in years."

"It's Azerite," Es'jin interrupted. "There was Azerite down here."

"What?" Urok's eyes narrowed. "Why? Were the elves storing it here? Why not in a Darnassus vault?"

The troll shrugged. The trio resumed their walk into the cave as the smell of Azerite became stronger. Dark splatters began to appear on the walls and floor, illuminated by the ruddy glow of witchlight. They didn't bother commenting - they all had enough experience to know it was blood. They continued on, silent but for footfalls and the sound of Zerron crunching through his snack.

At last, they came across the scene they had been dreading. At the end of the tunnel, the stone gave way to wood where the tree itself had grown around the cave. Azerite scorch marks and ruined wood clearly indicated a detonation, and charred bodies littered the area.

Zerron summed up what they were all thinking. "Fuck."

"They carried munitions in here," Urok hypothesised. "And then the munitions went off. The question, I guess, is whether it was an accident or not."

Es'jin was busy gingerly examining the bodies, which was made considerably more difficult by how burnt some of them were. He turned one over.

"I recognise dis one. He be a captain… er, were a captain. Didn't like the Alliance much - he fought in de second war, was in de internment camps."

"Ancestors above, Es'jin. You think he set the charges intentionally?"

"He were dumb as fuck, mon. I doubt he knew how hard de Azerite hit."

Both orc and troll looked solemnly at the charred wood.

"Hey, guys? This one's still alive."

Zerron's announcement came as a great surprise, and both Urok and Es'jin hurried over to find what the warlock was referring to. It wasn't a Horde soldier. It was a young night elf girl, barely into her race's equivalent of teen years by the look of it, huddled against the wall before the undead.

Urok knelt down beside her, and the girl tried to scramble away.

"Keep calm," he said, trying to make his voice sound as warm and soothing as possible. "How long have you been here?"

She didn't respond, so he tried a different approach. "We're not going to hurt you, alright? We're here to try and work out what happened. Is there anything you can tell us?"

This managed to coax a response, albeit a hesitant one. "…was hiding. From orcs. They carried… fire, but blue and yellow. And then they--"

The orc nodded, inferring the rest. "It's alright. I understand. Stay here, I'll be back in a moment."

He stood, and beckoned the others to follow him for privacy. Once that was done, he addressed them.

"It's as we feared. Warmongering captain, had a lot of very powerful munitions, didn't care about collateral damage. I just hope there aren't too many more like him."

"An' what of the girl?" Es'jin asked.

"We'll have to take her with us. She's lost her home, but she can at least be kept safe in Orgrimmar until somebody can get her back to her people."

"That's gonna be tough, mon. The boat barely fits the three of us."

Urok shrugged. "We can't leave her here."

Zerron coughed. "I mean, speaking for myself, I absolutely can leave her here."

The orc shot him a glare. "We _won't_ leave her here. It wouldn't be honourable."

"You talk about honour, but like, it's not my race that just blew up the tree."

"Under a warchief who is… that's right, _undead_."

"I didn't vote for her."

"You don't vote for warchiefs!" Urok responded incredulously.

"Urok be right, though," the troll countered. "She gotta go somewhere. Unless you have a better solution?"

The warlock looked at each of them, and then to the sad-looking remnants of his probably-imp snack. There was a brief, silent pause.

"You sicken me, Zerron." The orc shook his head.

"I'm de one rowing de boat, an' I say we take her wit' us," Es'jin insisted. He turned and headed back towards the elf child, leaving the other two with no real choice but to follow.

She looked at them with eyes still frightened, but Urok thought perhaps he saw a glimmer of hope in them. The troll was definitely right - nothing they did would turn back time and stop this atrocity from happening, but they could do this at the very least.

Es'jin knelt before her. "Ey, mon. We be gettin' you outta here now. You be stayin' in Orgrimmar, but anytin be better than starving here."

The child fixed her gaze on him, as if wondering how his accent managed to carry over into text, but that confusion only lasted a moment before she burst into tears and ran into the troll's embrace.

Urok felt a warm smile come across his face as he watched. "Hey. Zerron."

"What's up?"

"If you make one joke about 'playing with your food', you're going to need to replace both your arms when we're back in Orgrimmar. Again."

"Noted."


	10. Sound Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Pride month! I wish the world wasn't turning on its head about now, but hopefully everything that's going on is the catalyst that changes the world to be a nicer, more equitable place.

Malyssa closed her eyes and leaned back in the bath, letting the warm water cover her up to her neck and feeling the accumulated salt seep from her skin. She let out a sigh of contentment and stretched out her legs.

She'd missed the luxury. Rinsing herself off with conjured water sucked, and it'd take weeks before her hair was back to its usual lustre. The privacy was nice, as well, not having to worry about a goblin crewmember walking in on her in the middle of changing.

Her hand snaked down between her thighs to start slowly rubbing at the pearl in their crux. Being in the privacy of her own rooms meant she could do this, too, something she'd been too nervous to do on the boat. In mere moments her breath was catching in her throat as little shocks of sensation laced through her. Her other hand reached up to pinch a nipple, which stiffened under the attention and dragged a half-gasp from her.

She whimpered and crested, her back arching and pushing her up out of the water, where she writhed in the air suspended on throes of agonising pleasure with the liquid pouring off her in shimmering rivulets. As the flood abated, she slowly sank back down into its warmth with an even bigger smile on her face than when she'd first gotten into the bath.

Matters resolved, Mal set to washing herself properly. This consisted of equal parts lazy soaking and actual washing, and a lot of savouring a bathtub large enough to fish in. By the end of the process her skin had started to shrivel and her long hair had knotted together as she had washed it. She drained the water, tenderly stepped out of the bathtub, and began the process of drying herself. The towel was equally luxurious, and she dared not wonder how Magni had stocked the chamber so thoroughly.

A knock on the door of her quarters made her jump, knocking her wrist on the sink. She swore softly, and hastily wiped off her legs before wrapping the towel around herself and gingerly trying not to drip across the floor as she tip-toed out of the bathroom and through the bedroom.

She made sure the towel was securely wrapped before answering the door. It was Elliaane, again, though Mal had kind of guessed it would be.

"Sup, girl?" she said casually, trying not to draw attention to the fact that she looked like a wet cat.

"Oh. Sorry. I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" the draenei apologised.

"Nope. Just finished. Um, barring some details. Like pants. But I have like six different pairs of leggings I can choose from so that's not really a problem. My hair might be though. It got kinda tangled."

"Why are you even rambling about this of all things? I'm not accusing you." Elliaane shook her head.

Mal winced. "Yeah. Sorry. So is this a friendly visit, or…?"

"I wish it were. Magni wants to see you as soon as convenient. Which you should definitely wear pants for."

"Huh." The mage considered this for a moment. "So are you basically our coordinator, or leader, or wrangler if I'm being perfectly honest, now?"

The draenei made a face at that. "I… don't think so? I just left from a meeting with him is all."

"Oh well. I think you'd be good at it."

She smiled at Elliaane, who was visibly confused as to whether the compliment was genuine. It was, and only partially because Mal would've rather been brave enough for a cactus than assume the responsibility herself. She thanked the draenei, and ducked back inside before the illusion of actually being clever wore off.

About ten minutes later, and definitely wearing one of the aforementioned pairs of leggings, Mal strolled idly down towards Magni's office. She'd accompanied it with a billowy top that showed a bit of her midriff, and hoped that the extremely casual look would convince the dwarf not to send her on another mission after she'd just arrived back from the last one.

To her surprise, Marus the druid was also there. Poor thing was trying to shrink into his chair away from the very boisterous dwarf, who was making excited proclamations in his unintelligible accent. A large dusting of powder sat close to him on the desk, and Mal couldn't tell if it was cocaine or Azerite. She hoped it was Azerite.

"Ah, lass! Ye took yer sweet time getting here!" Magni exclaimed as she walked in.

"…I was enjoying my bath."

"Nothing to it! There's important shite tae be done! Ye tell her, Marus."

The druid looked just about ready to whimper at the unwanted attention. "I was scouting in Stormsong and came across what I think is Xal'atath. Um, if you didn't know, that was another artefact weapon. Like Aluneth."

"By 'like Aluneth' you mean it talks?"

"It does indeed talk."

"I literally cannot stress enough how much I don't want to have to deal with a second talking staff."

"Ye be safe, lass. This one be a dagger," Magni corrected.

"I really don't think that addresses the problem I was bringing up here."

"Nae idee what ye mean. I'm sendin the two a ye to grab the thing an' bring it 'ere. The lad goes since he found it, and ye go since ye can cover 'is arse in case 'e goes mad or some shite. Yer decurse wasn't pruned, was it…?"

His logic was sound even though his accent made her brain hurt. Mal knew she'd feel awful if she left Marus hung out to dry now, but it still felt a little unfair on her to be sent out so quickly again.

Surprisingly, it was the druid that spoke up. "I… truly apologise for mentioning this but… hasn't Malyssa just returned from another mission? She's surely tired, right? What would you have her do, considering that?"

Magni nodded at the powder on his desk. "I have a spare credit card here for the lass if she wants."

The lass really, really didn't want. "I'm… I'm not going to sniff that… and, uh… is that cocaine, or Azerite?"

"It's both, lass."

"Elune save us all," she heard Marus mutter. Shortly after that, the two elves were shoved out to be sent on their really-not-at-all merry way up to Stormsong Valley.

Marus explained his plan to her as they walked, despite obviously being a man who didn't talk much. "We can take a titan waygate to a cave in Tiragarde Sound. It's just above the estate of a noble named Norwington, but since it's not within the grounds itself we don't have to worry about that. From there, we head into Boralus and have two choices to get up to Stormsong."

"I'd prefer the one that isn't a boat."

"Then we'll have to charter a wagon. It's about half a day to Brennadam, the first major town, and from there it's probably another day and a half to where we look for the dagger."

"You've really done your homework," Mal said, impressed. "What about the, ah…"

"Blood elf thing?" Marus pursed his lips. "I'm really sorry. I hadn't thought of that at all."

Just like that, his growing confidence in his plan had disappeared. Mal tried to pick it back up.

"I'll just wear a hood and coloured contacts. They'll think I'm a high elf. It'll be fine."

He seemed to be at least a little bit reassured by that. "If you're so certain."

They briefly returned to their rooms in order to pack for the trip, stuffing various clothes and supplies into convenient extradimensional backpacks that all adventurers seemed to have. Once that was done, and their brief goodbyes said to the others, they reconvened at the waygate.

Travel by such a method was slightly more nauseating than a well-made portal, which Malyssa was very much not capable of doing for herself, let alone two. She'd have to get Aluneth to instruct her, although she really didn't want to give the staff slung over her back any food for its sense of superiority. The artefact seemed quite happy to be going out on another mission. It hadn't even asked any questions about the nature of the mission, aside from destination.

They emerged from the cave into a bright, clear morning, the perfect weather for travelling. However, it was still an hour or two until they'd reach Boralus. So Malyssa tried to start a conversation.

"Are you nervous?" she asked.

Marus' shoulders slumped. "A lot, yes. Not… not so much about the mission, but about being caught in Boralus."

"With me?" she asked.

"Yeah. With you."

Her ears twitched. "Is it because of the blood elf thing, or do you just not like me?"

"The blood elf thing!" he said, looking aghast. "You're… well, I don't think I could dislike you if I tried."

_"I don't think you're trying hard enough then_," Aluneth responded, and Mal could hear the eyeroll the staff couldn't physically do.

"That's really sweet of you to say," she smiled, ignoring the artefact. There was no road, but a stream directed them towards the small town of Hatherford. The sounds of running water and the chattering of river-birds was quite peaceful, actually, and Mal found herself simply enjoying the walk. "Even if we're caught, I'm pretty sure working for the dwarf gives us diplomatic immunity."

"I hope you're right." Marus' ears were drooping. "I don't know how much use I'll be with talking, though."

She whirled around and booped his nose with a touch of arcane energy. "We really need to work on your confidence. Just try to relax for now - the sun's out, the brook babbles, Aluneth hasn't suggested we blow something up for like half an hour."

Her words probably didn't have too much of an effect, but he did seem to regain a bit of his stride the longer they walked through the Sound. Before long, they reached Hatherford, where they took a brief break. Nobody questioned the pair, which seemed to set Marus even more at ease. Before long they continued on, reaching the outskirts of Boralus itself.

"Moment of truth," she stated, looking at the druid and nodding. "Contacts on, hood up, excuses ready. Let's do this."

With that, she took her first steps in decades into an Alliance capital, hoping desperately that Aluneth would shut up for long enough that they wouldn't draw too much attention.


	11. You Wouldn't Steal a Synopsis. Piracy: It's a Crime.

While Marus was busy securing passage on a caravan to Stormsong Valley, Malyssa had decided to go off on her own. It wasn't her smartest decision, given the city she was in, but she wanted to reconnoitre and discern the land's current affairs.

Essentially, it was a stupid short-term decision and a smart long-term decision, which was almost the complete opposite of her usual choices. Her mother would've been almost proud.

She stopped by a bakery in Tradewinds Market and bought a pastry in lieu of lunch, reasoning that since it contained fruit it was healthy enough. This wasn't at all correct, but if you asked Mal what a 'calorie' was she probably would've guessed that it was a yoga position. She kept her ears open while eating to try and catch what gossip she could.

"….Ashvane really sold us out to pirates. I just can't believe it, after all the years she spent in support of the Proudmoores."

"What do you expect from someone who runs a corporation? Ethics? Her workers weren't even allowed to unionise. It's a shame she escaped the prisons…"

"…something dark beneath the waves, that corrupted Lord Stormsong…"

"…thought the Drust were just fairy tales."

"At least Drustvar has opened up again. My sister lives in Fallhaven…"

"…expected to just forgive Jaina like that? It's because of her we got into this mess to begin with. If she hadn't killed her father…"

A mere ten minutes of listening had gotten Mal a sense of the state of current affairs. With growing dismay, she put the pieces together and realised how much N'Zoth's influence had spread. Whereas the Horde in Zuldazar had dealt with G'huun, the Alliance had their own Old God problems.

Stormsong Valley was seeped in the wasting entropy of the void. And she was heading directly into it. Perhaps, with Lord Stormsong's defeat, it would have waned somewhat? Then again, she _was_ going after Xal'atath.

"You seem like a very interested traveller."

The voice, coming from her immediate right, startled Mal, and she nearly dropped the remains of her pastry. She looked around, seeing another woman - a tall Kul Tiran in sailor's garb, tanned and heavily muscled. Dark brown hair peeked out from under an elaborate green tricorne, framing a strong face from which hazel eyes peered out with mirth.

"Oh. Hi," the blood elf squeaked. "Yeah. I just arrived and am catching up. Eager to help in the war. For the Alliance, you know."

The human split into a grin. "Sure. Captain Francine. I usually deal with pirates, but the Horde make just as good targets."

"Malyssa. I… sometimes make my hands glow."

_"Please tell me you have higher aspirations than that,"_ Aluneth said, thankfully just to her.

"Don't see a lot of… high elves acting as free agents," Francine prodded. "Usually you're all with the Silver Covenant."

Mal shrugged. "I try to remain neutral where I can."

An arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her towards the captain who whispered conspiratorially in her ear. "If you're after information, us sailors are quite good for that. I know some things that aren't supposed to be aired in public, and I get the feeling you'd very much like to know them."

Her interest piqued, Mal nodded. "Please tell."

"Not here. Follow me."

Francine began leading her out of the markets, through winding streets that lacked all the order of Silvermoon but still made more sense than Orgrimmar's stupid layout. Only when the two of them were alone in a back alley did Mal realise she might have made a mistake.

A hand on each shoulder effortlessly picked her up and pinned her to the wall, and she was face-to-face with a much less friendly Captain Francine.

"Coloured contacts won't fool me," the other woman hissed. "Why are you here, blood elf? Trying your little hand at spying?"

"Not - with the Horde!" Mal gasped. "Neutral! Neutral!"

Francine's eyes narrowed. "You have any proof of that?"

"Around my neck - there's a necklace. From Magni! I'm heading up to Stormsong to deal with Old God presence there."

The captain appeared to consider logistics for a moment, before raising one leg to place a knee firmly on Mal's abdomen. Thus secured, her right hand was free to pull down the elf's top slightly and reveal the glowing heart of Azeroth concealed underneath.

She frowned. "Anything else?" Her voice still held danger, and Mal felt herself dangerously close to panicking. She hadn't considered that the Heart alone wouldn't be proof enough.

"Aluneth?" she squeaked over her shoulder. The staff stirred in response.

_"Oh, very well, I suppose I should intervene. She speaks the truth, although if a single human is enough to derail her plans I don't know how she thinks she'll handle N'Zoth."_

"Hmm." Francine let go, stepped away, and Mal crumpled to the ground, her limbs shaking as she took long, heaving breaths of relief. She sent a mental thanks to Aluneth, and was met with a communicated sneer.

"So. Information." It seemed the captain wasn't done.

Mal looked up. "You're offering?"

"There is a price. Neutral or not, I'm not supposed to tell just anyone these things, so you're going to have to make it worth my while."

"I- I can pay. Or… do you accept cheques and I can get the dwarf to fill it out?"

"I've no need of your money." The captain's grin was back, although it had a wicked edge to it. "You know, I've never had an elf before."

Mal blinked, unsure if she'd heard right. Aluneth sighed into her mind. _"For fuck's sakes, not again." _

"You want me to… to go bed with you?" she asked, still slightly unbelieving.

"Aren't you formal? No, nothing so fancy," Francine responded, shaking her head. "I want you to eat me out, right here, right now."

"In public?" the mage squeaked. "What if people see?"

"Then they'll see me with another woman's head between my thighs, serving me quite nicely. They'll probably be quite jealous that I managed to get another beautiful woman to submit."

The thought was actually kind of hot, but Mal had lines, rather faded and worn lines if she was going to be perfectly honest, but eating someone out in a back alley was perhaps too undignified for her libido to bear. Perhaps.

Perhaps…

"I want to stress," Francine continued, "That if you don't want to do this, I won't force you. There are plenty of others who could tell you what you need to know."

She had the time. She could go to someone else and find information without having to sell herself. But now the challenge had been raised, and Mal would be damned before she let herself be walked over like this.

Standing up to her full height, the mage met the captain's eyes. "You're not forcing anything. Get up against the wall, between those crates if you don't mind."

Francine's eyes widened at the sudden surge of confidence, but complied nonetheless. She fiddled at the latches on her belt.

"Don't get too demanding, remember."

"Oh, please. We both have something the other wants."

The captain let out a low chuckle. "Well, what I want from you I can get anywhere. You're saying you're special?"

Mal pressed up against the other woman, foreheads together, close enough that she could feel their breaths meeting each other. "I'm saying that I'll be the best you've ever had."

She dropped to a crouch, balancing on her toes and pulling down Francine's leggings. It was slightly more difficult to part the other woman's legs from this position, but she managed to, and ran her fingers along the petals between. She was pleasantly surprised at the level of grooming, coming from a sailor, and a human no less. There was even the faint fragrance of a tiny application of perfume.

Mal flicked her gaze up as she leaned in, making sure to keep eye contact as her tongue slowly reached out to press against the pearl she sought. She rolled her tongue in small circles, sliding her hands up Francine's thighs to grab her hips before pressing forward with suddenness and clamping her lips over the other woman's clit.

A hand ran through her hair. "Good girl," the captain whispered. "That's perfect."

Mal's eyes fluttered shut at the sensual caress and she moved further down. Her tongue ran across Francine's clit to a response of breathy moans. She continued, lips firmly clamped around her target and tongue moving back and forth while her hands gripped the captain's hips.

She moved down, maintaining eye contact, her tongue moving between Francine's lower lips, tasting her slowly. She just barely poked her tongue inside, before withdrawing it. Teasing her. Another moan was her reward.

Mal alternated her movements, sensually shifting her attention across the captain's lips, to her clit, back again, experimenting to find the most sensitive buttons to push. Every time Francine seemed to draw close to her peak, the elf drew back, edging the captain torturously over and over.

Hands gripping her hair startled Mal, and she found her face forced between the other woman's legs, almost smothered by her thighs. Her control was ripped away as Francine started ruthlessly riding her face.

"I'm in charge here. Don't forget that," she growled. Her hips ground against Mal's mouth, wetness spreading across the elf's lips. Mal thought at first the captain would take her orgasm by force and be done with it, but after a few moments Francine apparently thought better and settled into a hard-paced rhythm that still allowed her sub to breathe. Just.

For her own part, Mal was rather enjoying having her bratty tendencies punished, and her hand almost wandered between her own thighs before Francine motioned otherwise.

"Don't you dare touch yourself," the captain warned, her voice only just cracking through Mal's ministrations. "You fuck with me, I fuck back."

The elf moaned her obedience, which proved to be a mistake as she missed her chance to take a breath before she was shoved even more forcefully down. As she redoubled her efforts at eating out Francine, the captain's head rolled back and her harsh attitude was worn down to a muttered chant of "good girl", repeated over and over before orgasm took her and she had to strangle her own cry lest they be discovered. Warm wetness gushed over Mal's face and the hands in her hair gripped almost painfully before at last wrenching her away.

Gasping for breath and somewhat more dishevelled than she'd hoped, Mal was still in a better shape than the human, who was looking decidedly frazzled as she came back down to earth.

Their eyes met, although no longer in the throes of an erotic frenzy it was considerably more awkward.

"You alright?" Francine asked.

It wasn't exactly the kind of aftercare Mal preferred, but she smirked anyway. "Perfectly fine. So? Was I the best you'd had?"

The captain opened her mouth as if to make a snarky comment, before shutting it slowly and glowering. "You might have been," she admitted, and the elf's grin broadened. Francine withdrew from a coat pocked some wet wipes, one of which she gave to the elf before cleaning herself up.

Mal wiped off her face. All in all, not the worst experience. Perhaps she'd have to reconsider her low opinion of humans after this. Depending, of course, on how the next bit was handled.

Francine had already cleaned herself up and looked just as she had before their tryst, clearly being quite used to this kind of action. It was almost enviable, really, and Mal wondered how she could go about learning how to compose herself so quickly after making a mess over someone else's face.

Right. Business. She sent that line of thinking to horny jail and looked expectantly at the captain, hoping her intent would be descried with little difficulty.

"You wanted information, right?" the Kul Tiran drawled, her accent coming through especially pronounced in that line. "Well, you scratched my back, so… where do you want to start?"

"Azerite. Start with Azerite. How it's changed things here."

Francine took on an almost reverential tone as she answered. "It's really fucking something, I'll tell you that much. Blew apart-- no, from the beginning. One of the nobles, Lady Ashvane, made a deal with pirates to depose the Proudmoores and take over Kul Tiras herself. Supplied them with Azerite weapons and munitions and attacked Boralus."

"Which you fended off, luckily."

"Barely. She had a kraken. How she got to command a creature like that, who knows."

"Well, guess she's kraken-lacken' now," Mal replied, with finger-guns. Francine looked at her with a gaze totally dead inside.

"I should have suffocated you while you were down there."

"Honestly I probably deserved it after that one, yeah."

"Stormsong Valley isn't in great shape either, though I do have to say it's better than what's in Drustvar."

Mal raised an eyebrow. "What's there?"

"Imagine crossing the Witcher with family drama."

"Isn't that just the Witcher?"

"It's also not plot relevant so we can skip over it."

"Oh, right, we have one of those now. Back to Stormsong then?"

Francine paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts. "While House Ashvane was busy mass-producing superweapons, House Stormsong was busy selling us out. A lot of what happened has been hushed up, but Lord Stormsong had apparently made a bargain with… things… from beneath the ocean. One rumour is that he'd even sold out the fleet to Azshara."

The elf's face paled at the mention of Azshara. Memories of her dream came flooding back, and the queen's last ominous words. What was the queen playing at?

"Faceless Ones," she murmured.

"What?" the captain asked, clearly surprised at having been interrupted.

"Those are the things you mentioned. While the Alliance and Horde fight each other, N'Zoth schemes from the shadows, just waiting for his opportunity. Sorry - do continue."

"Uh. Okay." Francine looked understandably troubled at her own discovery. "So… a group of mainlanders attacked the Shrine of the Storm and killed Lord Stormsong." She leaned in closer, her eyes looking around nervously. "There are rumours that after Stormsong was defeated, the group went under the shrine, and that there they found something monstrous. Something that whispered directly into their minds, talking of truths beneath the waves. Is that… is that a Faceless One?"

Mal nodded gravely. "I've not met one myself, but… yes. That was definitely one."

They looked at each other in silence.

"I should really go," Francine said suddenly. "My absence will be noticed and there will be questions. If anyone asks, I didn't tell you this."

She strode quickly out of the alley, and Mal raised her hand in a half-assed salute. _To a fellow avoider of responsibility. I hope she doesn't tell anyone I'm here._

Speaking of responsibility, Marus had probably found transportation and was looking for her by now.

_"An interesting string of developments,"_ Aluneth drawled.

"I thought you'd retreated off to sulk?"

_"I am gradually learning to tolerate your consistent sexual escapades. Despite that, I still harbour a hope that you will grow out of them."_

Mal tried to remember which way led back to the markets, and set off out of the alley. "In my defence, that time wasn't my idea or intent. Besides, if you'd ever been eaten out, you'd understand why I like it so much."

_ "Even when I wasn't encased within this staff, I didn't have the requisite parts. Or any parts, for that matter." _

"Yes, I know, amorphous arcane entity and everything. Was it a left or a right, here?"

_ "A right." _

"Thanks."

With a bit of assistance from her artefact she was soon back in Tradewinds Market, just in time to see Marus walking out of the charter office carrying a clipboard. He spotted her, and waved her over.

"Good news," he said proudly, "we leave in about twenty minutes. The timing works out perfectly - this caravan even provides meals."

"That's the best news I've heard all day," she smiled. Technically she'd already eaten twice in the past half hour but like PCP you could never have enough food.

"Come, we just need to go and meet the caravan master at the inn. So, what did you do while you waited?"

Mal hummed. "Well, I followed a pirate to a back alley and ate her out in exchange for a current affairs report. I consider that a productive exercise, by the way."

The druid coughed in shock. "In a _back alley?_ Like, in_ public?_"

"Hey, I was in my primary school yearbook as 'most likely to be on _16 and Pregnant_', this is uphill of my standards."

"That was in-- none of the parents thought that was kind of fucked?"

"Please don't put parents and fucked in the same sentence again, thanks. My school was about as underfunded as they come so it was basically a race between goon bags and pen ink tattoos to see which poisoned the students first. And when you're spaced after doing either of those things you make some pretty questionable decisions."

"I think I'm starting to get to know you better," Marus groaned, scrunching his eyes shut and shaking his head.

"Just starting? Well, we have a day or two of caravan trip ahead of us. We can bond over hating mumble rap and by the time we find Xal'atath we'll be best of friends!"


End file.
